


Dancing in the Dark

by xAnimaniac



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: 1930s, Dancing, F/M, M/M, Way too much dialogue I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:44:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xAnimaniac/pseuds/xAnimaniac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And so, when I think of their last summer back in 1936, what I remember is dancing. Dancing in silence, because words were no longer needed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, I wrote this one a year ago, basing it on a play I acted in. I wanted to write something that wasn't hugely exciting but more about the characters and things. The idea is that Katie is remembering her childhood when she lived in Ballybeg in Northern Ireland during the 30s with her mom and her aunt and uncles. 
> 
> Just to let you know the ages if you're curious: Gustavo is 40, Logan is 37, James is 35, Carlos is 34, Camille is 32, Kendall is 28, and Jo is 25.
> 
> SO. MUCH. DIALOGUE.

__

_  
I had never been married, so I was still Katie Mundy at the time. I did get married late on, but by then half of them were gone. It had been so long since that summer of 1936. When I think of that summer, so long ago, different kinds of memories offer themselves to me. We got our first wireless radio that summer—well, sort of. It didn't go half the time—and it obsessed us. I remember, that because we got it just as August was about to begin, my uncle Carlos—the joker of the family—suggested we give it the name Lugh, after the old pagan god of the harvest. Because the first day of August was called Lá Lughnasa, and the weeks that followed were the festival of Lughnasa._

_But my uncle Logan—who was a primary school teacher, and truthfully a bit of a killjoy—said it would be sinful to give any inanimate object a name, especially not the name of a pagan god. So we just called it Marconi, because that was the name emblazoned on the set. I remember it so well. Everybody loved that radio. It brought atmosphere to the little home. God knows they needed it. My mother Camille, and my uncle Kendall, my aunt Jo and my uncle Carlos forever condemned to doing housework, all because of a mistake my grandmother made. Their lives were often so dull, they certainly needed it._

"Jo?"

The middle-aged woman looked up at her dazedly, blinking her sleepy eyes at her. "Who are you?" she asked hoarsely, too weak to sit up in her bed. "Pretty young woman . . . your eyes, they remind me of a man I used to know." She frowned as she tried to remember. "What was his name . . . Jett Stetson, I think."

"No, Jo," Katie Mundy said patiently, sitting in the chair beside the woman's bed. How old was she now? In her fifties or sixties, surely. Life on the streets made her look so much older. "Jett Stetson is another man. But I remember him too. I think you and he were together at some point. But I'm not sure. I was only seven, after all."

Jo smiled dreamily, looking up at the ceiling. "Oh, yes. Jett Stetson. I remember him. He took me up the back hills with him, and we had a picnic on Lough Anna . . . he calls me his rosebud, because he said I had rosy cheeks—" Suddenly she stopped, looking at Katie with wide eyes. "Seven? You were seven?"

"Yes, I was," Katie replied slowly. She wondered if Jo had ever recovered from her disability. She doubted it. It probably wasn't possible. "You remember me now, don't you? You're my aunt."

"You remind me of James Diamond." She scowled. "Broke my brother's heart, he did. And my sister. And . . . and . . . I don't remember."

"It's ok," Katie said quickly as Jo's eyes began to close. "Have a rest. You need it."

But Josephine Mundy didn't wake up again.

_Something else major happened that summer. My uncle Gustavo came home from Africa for the first time since I was born. For fifteen years he worked as a priest in a leper colony, in a village called Ryanga, in Uganda. He left that colony briefly when he worked as chaplain to the British forces in East Africa, during World War 1. Shrunken and jaundiced with malaria, he was coming home to Ireland to live the end of his life, even if he was only forty years old. It's funny, because when I remember the joy that radio brought, at the same time I can remember Gustavo shuffling from room to room, as if he was searching for something but couldn't remember what. And when I remember my mother and my aunt and uncles catching hands and dancing around the kitchen to the beat of the Irish dance music, I can remember jack sitting out on the garden seat, humming a little tribal song from Africa._

_And even though I was only seven at the time, I always felt as though things were changing to quickly before my eyes. Maybe it was because Gustavo was nothing like I thought he would be. Or maybe because that summer brought out aspects of my family's personalities that I'd never seen before. Or maybe it was because, during that Lughnasa, we were visited a few times by my father, James Diamond. And for the first time in my life, I had a chance to observe him._

_And what a man he was._


	2. Chapter 2

_  
I am a love child._

_My family aren't approved of. My mother had me, as it was called then, out of wedlock. She brought so much shame on the family, and it didn't help that there was already enough there. Because of my grandmother._

_Carlos was a love child too._

_I know the story well by now. Grandfather and Grandmother were arguing, and their marriage was failing. Something that shouldn't have happened. Then she went and found a Spanish man in town, and slept with him. I don't even know his name, and I'm not sure she did either. But Grandfather accepted her and her upcoming baby anyway. Then Carlos was born when Uncle Gustavo and Logan were six and three years old. They've always treated him like their brother. He may only be half, but it's never showed._

_My poor mother and her family have always been frowned upon by the town. Gustavo and Logan was born first, so somehow they were spared from this. I remember learning all these things about the family later on. Uncle Kendall tried to get a job several times, but it was always given to somebody else. The same happened to Carlos. My mother was expected to look after me, and Jo stayed at home too. She probably wouldn't have got a job anyway. She was always a bit simple; I learned later that the official name was a development disability._

_But she did manage to find some form of income; knitting. She started knitting gloves continuously and then Kendall would sell them to Kelly Wainwright, a woman who owned a clothes shop in the town. Jo was never able to handle all the work, and Kendall ended up taking up half the labour with her. The four of them hardly ever left the house, with Logan going off and dealing with most business in the public eye. He was the only one they would see. But even that didn't last long when Gustavo came home._

In a small home outside of Ballybeg, Donegal, four members of the Mundy family worked in the kitchen, mostly in silence. Camille stood at the kitchen table, ironing the clothes. Carlos stood a bit away with a bowl in his hands, making a mash to give to the hens. Kendall and Jo were sitting at the table with balls of wool between them, needles clicking away. Occasionally someone yawned, or made a small comment to the other before falling silent again. Camille looked up at the mirror hanging up on the wall. She put her iron down for a moment and walked over.

Camille stood in front if the mirror, running her fingers through her hair and over her face. She gave an exasperated sigh. "When are we going to get a decent mirror to see ourselves in?"

"You can see enough to do you!" Carlos scoffed.

"But it's all cracked! Can't I just throw it out?"

"Absolutely not! I'm the one that broke it, and the only way to avoid seven years of bad luck is to keep using it!"

"But you can see nothing in it!" Camille whined.

Kendall looked up, giggling. "Except more and more wrinkles!" he teased, earning a glare from his older sister.

"I'm far too pale," Camille muttered crossly. "And this mousy hair . . . I need a bit of colour. Maybe some lipstick."

"What for?" Kendall asked.

"What indeed . . ." She sighed again and went back to her ironing. She held up Gustavo's surplice, smiling to herself. "This'd make a nice dress, wouldn't it Jo?"

Jo giggled at her, leaving her knitting and going to look. Kendall gave an exhausted sigh, putting his own knitting needles down and resting his head on the table, resting on his folded arms. "You're a right pair of pagans, the two of ye," he murmured sleepily, even though he didn't mean it.

"Carlos, turn on Marconi!" Jo suggested, bouncing in excitement.

"Oh, I've told you a dozen times! The battery's dead!" Camille told her impatiently.

"It's not! It went for me a while ago!"

Jo skipped over to where the radio sat on the dresser and switched it on. Instantly a quick beat of Irish dance music filled the room. "See! I guess it just likes me more!"

She spun around the room, giggling happily. But just as she was going back towards Kendall, there was a crackling sound and the music stopped. "Told you," Camille said smugly.

"That set's useless!" Jo sighed, sitting down and picking up her half-knitted gloves.

"Logan will be bringing a new battery home with him," Carlos said cheerfully.

"If it's the battery that's wrong," Camille muttered, folding another shirt.

Kendall sighed and walked up to the window. "What's Katie doing, Camille?"

"Oh, God knows. As long as she's quiet," Camille replied offhandedly.

"She's making something, I think." He stepped away from the window. "It's a pity shepherd are no girls around to play with her."

Carlos laughed. "Well, I don't know about Katie, but I know I could do with a bit of that!"

"Carlos!"

"Well, I'm just saying that—" He stopped, frowning. "Shh."

"What is it?" Camille asked as Kendall sat back down.

"I thought I heard Gustavo at the back door. I hope Logan remembers his quinine."

"He'll remember," Kendall said with an edge of bitterness in his voice. "Logan forgets nothing."

There was silence for a moment or two as they continued their work.

"Um . . . Kendall?"

"Yes?"

Jo bit her lip, looking slightly nervous. "There's going to be pictures in the hall next Saturday. I thought . . . maybe I'd go."

"Oh. That, that's nice, Jo," Kendall replied hesitantly.

"I might be meeting somebody there."

Carlos and Camille's heads snapped up, instantly alert. "Who?" Carlos demanded.

"I'm not saying!" Jo said quickly.

"Do we know him?" Camille persisted.

"Not saying!"

"Well, you'll enjoy that," Kendall cut in, glaring at the other two before turning to smile at Jo. "You loved it the last time we went there."

"Oh, and he wants to bring me up to the back hills next Sunday!" Jo squealed, obviously not realising she shouldn't be sharing this information. "To Lough Anna! You see, his father has a boat there. And I was thinking, I could bring a bottle of milk with me. And I've enough money saved, to buy a packet of chocolate biscuits!" Just another example of how little they had.

There was silence in the room for a few moments. Then suddenly Carlos slammed his mixing bowl down on the table and marched up to Jo, having figured it out and unable to hold it in. "Jo, Jett Stetson is a scut!"

"I never said it was Jett!" Jo replied quickly.

"He's a married man, with three children!" Camille added, throwing her iron back in the range.

"And that's just where you're wrong, Camille!" Jo snapped. "So there!" She turned to Kendall with a smug smile. "Kendall, she left him six months ago, and went to England! She took the children with her."

Kendall really didn't know what to say. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Jo, love, they just want—"

"And who are you to talk!" Jo shouted at Camille, jumping to her feet and sizing her up. "Don't you dare lecture me, Camille Mundy!"

"Jo, everyone in town knows that Jett Stetson is—"

"You're jealous too!" Jo yelled at Carlos, ignoring the illogical side of this. "That's what's wrong with all of ye, you're all jealous of me!"

"Oh, Jo . . ." Kendall began.

"He started calling me his rosebud, Ken," Jo cut in pleadingly, sitting next to him. "He waited outside the chapel gate for me last Christmas morning, and he gave me this." She pulled a long silver chain out from under her dress. "It's a fish. Isn't it lovely? It brings you good luck, and it's made of pure silver!"

"It is lovely," Kendall replied softly, looking at it with wistful eyes. He remembered gifts like that.

"I wear it all the time." Jo paused, looking close to tears. "I really love him, Kendall."

"I know," Kendall sighed, because he really, really did.

He gave Jo a hug, trying to ignore Camille snarling, "Bastard!" under her breath. He wasn't sure whether she was talking about him or Jett. Maybe both.

Carlos had chosen to stay out of this argument for now. He'd picked up the bag of grain and was spinning around the kitchen. "Summer time was nearly over! Blue Italian skies above! I said 'Mister, you're a rover'!" Can you spare a sweet word of love!"

Camille rolled her eyes as Carlos skipped out the door to the back garden. Then she heard a clatter and turned towards the stove, where Jo was now putting some turf in the range. "For God's sake, I have an iron in there!" she snarled, already on edge.

"How was I to know that?"

"Couldn't you see me ironing, you—"

"Jo."

Both sisters turned to see Kendall sitting quietly at the table, holding up the knitting basket. "You need to give me a hand with this."

Outside, Carlos was scattering grain around the garden for the hens, humming to himself. He then spotted Katie sitting under the sycamore tree, with some paint pots and a lot of paper. He walked over to her, chuckling. "What are these supposed to be?"

"Kites," came the sullen reply.

"Kites! God help your wit!"

Katie sighed, looking up at him. "Watch where you're going, Uncle Carlos. You're standing on a tail."

"Did it squeal?" Carlos burst out laughing at his own joke, before getting down on his knees next to Katie. "I'll make a deal with you! You'll get a penny if these old things ever leave the ground, right?"

"You're on!"

Carlos nodded, patting her on the shoulder before standing up. "Oh, wait! I have a riddle for you!"

Katie groaned.

"Why is a river like a watch?"

"You're pathetic."

"Think!"

"Give up . . ."

"Have you even one brain in that head of yours?"

"I give up!"

"Fine, I'll tell you! It never goes far without winding!" Carlos chuckled to himself for a moment or two, before sighing down at his niece. "You know what your problem is? You're buck stupid."

Katie ignored him. Then she shrieked, pointing at the grass beneath Carlos's feet. "Look out, there's a rat!"

"Where?" Carlos leaped backwards with a scream, bucket brandished like some sort of deadly weapon. "Jesus, where is it!"

Katie giggled. "Got you again!"

Carlos groaned, turning around to go to the back of the house. "Jesus Christ, Katherine. Someday you're just going to fill some poor man's life with happiness. I long to see it happen!" He stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a sweet, tossing it in her direction. "Barley sugar. I hope it chokes you."

"Are there bits of tobacco stuck to it again?"

Carlos ignored her and walked off.

_Carlos always used to tease me. I suppose it was because we were so alike._

_When I saw Gustavo for the first time, I was shocked by his appearance. The truth was that I'd expected a magnificent figure from a child's storybook. I saw a photo of him that had fallen out of Uncle Logan's prayer book, but he snatched it from me before I could really study it. But I remember he looked magnificent in his officer's uniform. And that was what I expected to see when he came home. I couldn't have been more far off. But he was always hero to my mother and her siblings. They scraped and saved money for him so they could send him something at Christmas and his birthday. And whenever a story about him appeared in the Donegal Enquirer, it was only natural that our family would enjoy a small share of the fame. It gave us a little more status in the eyes of the parish. And it must have helped my uncles to bare the shame that Mother brought on them._

_But they all had their secrets. Some were bigger than others._

"There you go!" Peggy Morgan said cheerfully, handing Logan the spinning top and taking his money. "Have a good day, Logan!"

"You too, Peggy," Logan replied with a smile, putting the spinning top in one of his shopping bags. "I'll see you around, I suppose."

He walked out into the street, laden with a heavy shopping bag in each arm and sighing, knowing he had a long walk home.

"Mr Mundy!"

Logan turned to see some young girl walking up to him. God, he couldn't even remember her name. But she did look familiar. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if you were going to the harvest dance!" she beamed, eyes glinting.

"Oh. Well, I don't know . . ." Logan stammered, knowing very well that he wasn't.

"Oh, I hope you won't miss it! This year it's going to be just supreme!"

Logan rolled his eyes and walked past her. "Well, I'll think about it. Good day to you, Miss . . ."

"Jennifer McLaughlin!"

"Yes, that's it. Goodbye now!"

Logan hurried off, wanting to get out of the village as quickly as possible.  



	3. Chapter 3

_  
Uncle Logan had his secrets, like the rest of them. Only, he wasn't so good at hiding them as the others. Maybe that was why he had such a no-nonsense, strict attitude. Nobody would mock a man who made you feel like a little toddler, ready for detention. Still, he was vulnerable on the inside; inside he was this small boy, trapped and locked in, desperate to escape a life of rules and responsibilities. And sometimes he gave in and let that boy out. But not too often. Logan losing control was a rare sight to see._

Logan trooped into the back garden of the cottage, moaning. God, his arms were killing him. He stopped when he saw Katie kneeling on the ground, fiddling with paper and paints. He grinned, walking over. "Now that's what I call a busy woman!" he greeted. "Come here and give your uncle Logan a big kiss!"

Katie got to her feet reluctantly and hugged him. The schoolteacher tone was something that rarely amused her. "What's all this?" Logan asked. "Is it a kite?"

"It's two kites," Katie corrected.

"Oh, it certainly is! And they're the most wonderful kites I've ever seen!" Logan frowned thoughtfully, looking down at them. "What are those designs?"

"They're faces," Katie replied with large eyes, as if it were obvious. "I painted them."

"Wow, you did those? Oh, they're terrifying! Are they devils, or ghosts? I swear, I wouldn't like to see those lads in the sky, looking down at me."

Katie sighed at the patronising tone.

"Oh, wait a second." Logan dug into one of the shopping bags with slight difficulty, holding the object out to Katie. "Here, do you know what this is? It's a spinning top! And this is the whip. You know how to use it?"

"Um . . ."

"Of course you do! What do you say?"

"Thanks . . .?" Katie trailed off, frowning at the toy in bewilderment.

Logan's smile fell. "Thank you, uncle Logan," he corrected firmly, before his face lit up again. "Oh, I also have a new library book! With coloured pictures! We can start reading it at bedtime!"

Logan straightened up and opened the back door. "Call me the moment you're ready to fly those kites!" he called over his shoulder. "I don't want to miss a second of it!"

Logan strode into the kitchen, smiling in greeting at his three younger siblings. "Where's Carlos?" he asked.

"Wandering around outside, with the hens," Camille replied offhandedly.

"Did you see what Katie's doing out there?" Logan asked Camille with a grin, setting the bags on the kitchen table, ready for unpacking. "She's making kites!"

"Some kites she'll make," Camille scoffed, walking over to the window for a look.

"All by herself!" Logan continued with a proud smile. "No help from anyone. She's very mature for her years!"

Camille laughed. "Very cheeky for her years!"

"I think she's beautiful, Cam," Jo sighed dreamily. "I wish she was mine—"

Kendall's hand clamped over her mouth until she fell silent. That was not something you said out loud. Nobody should want a love child. No one.

"Is that a spinning top she's got there?" Camille asked, frowning.

"Oh, it's nothing!" Logan said quickly, turning to unpack the groceries.

"Oh Logie, you have her spoiled rotten!" Camille sighed. "Where did you get it?"

"Um . . ." Logan bit his lip, trying not to smile. "Morgan's arcade."

Kendall squeaked. Jo let out a high-pitched giggle, the two of them smirking at each other.

"I bet she didn't even thank you!" Camille replied.

Jo hopped up and ran over to where Logan was standing. "I know why you went into Morgan's!"

"Oh, she did!" Logan told Camille quickly. "She's very mannerly!"

"You wanted to see Peggy Morgan!"

"You know, um, every field along the road, they're all out with the, uh, the hay and the corn!"

"Because you have a bit of a crush on that Peggy Morgan!" Kendall teased, laughing happily.

"It's going to be a good harvest by the look of it!" Logan persisted, trying to ignore them.

"Oh, we know you have!" Jo giggled. "You're blushing! But what you don't know, is that she's going with this cattle farmer from Carrickfad—"

"Josephine," Logan sighed witheringly. "What Peggy does or doesn't do is—"

"Why are you blushing then?" Jo yelled in Logan's face. "Why why why—"

"Oh for God's sake!" Logan shouted in frustration. "Shut up, would you!"

A silence fell over the room. Kendall stared up at them with wide eyes. "Jo?"

The blonde turned to him, completely unfazed. "Yep?"

"Pass me those steel needles, please."

Logan was staring down at his shopping bags, biting his lip so hard it started to bleed. Kendall sighed unhappily and went back to his work. Poor Logan.

"Are you tired?" Camille asked Logan gently.

Logan sighed. "That road from town gets longer every day. I swear, Ballybeg is off its head! Everywhere you go, everyone is obsessing over the harvest dance. It's ridiculous!"

Kendall rolled his eyes, standing up to walk over and place some newly-knitted gloves on the dresser. "All the same, I can remember some great harvest dances. Can't you?"

Logan just grunted, fishing a bottle out of the shopping bag. "Here! This is for you, Camille. One teaspoon, every morning before breakfast."

"What is this?" Camille asked, holding the bottle in her hand.

"Cod liver oil." Logan paused before adding bluntly, "You're too pale."

"Wow. Thanks, Logan," Camille sighed.

"It's because you take no exercise!" Logan continued. He pulled out another bottle. "Here's the quinine. The doctor said it wouldn't cure the malaria, it but it might help to contain it. Is he in his room?"

Camille shook her head. "He's wandering around the garden somewhere."

"I told the doctor you found him quiet, Kendall."

No response made Logan lift his head, looking over. Kendall was staring into space as his knitting needles clicked, paying no attention to any of them. He was gone off into one of his daydreams, though none of them had the faintest idea what he dreamt about. Everyone turned to stare at him. "Kendall!" Jo called, waving a hand in front of his face. "KENDALL!"

"Huh?" Kendall exclaimed, blinking dazedly. "What?"

"I told the doctor you found Gustavo very quiet," Logan repeated impatiently.

"Oh."

"Well, didn't you?" Logan rolled his eyes and continued unpacking. "Anyway, the doctor said we should try and understand how strange all of this must be after so long. After all, Swahili has been his main language for years! So if you think about it, his mind isn't confused. He's just struggling to find the words for what he wants to say."

"No matter what the doctor says, he is a bit confused, Logan," Camille replied, folding up one of said man's shirts as she spoke. "Sometimes he has no idea who he's talking to! I've heard him calling you Carlos, and he keeps calling me this weird name . . ."

"Obdul?" Logan questioned.

"Yes, that's it!"

Logan sighed, sitting down. "Obdul was his house boy. He was very . . . attached to him."

They fell into silence. Kendall stared down at his knitting, putting iron the table with a sigh. Why was everything so damn boring? Life used to be exciting, fun, free. When they were younger, and had more time on their hands. Before Katie was born. Or for him, before Katie was conceived, really. After that . . .

Well, here he was.

_—9 years ago—_

_"And some buttered scones," Kendall finished, setting the bundle on the desk. "Don't forget to pick up some sugar and matches on your way home!"_

_"Thank you, Kendall," Logan smiled, unwrapping his food. "I'll remember."_

_"Oh, and some apples!"_

_"Got it! I'll see you later on, Kendall. I need to get back to work."_

_Kendall left the school, humming as he pulled his jacket around him. The sun was out but the air was a little chilly today, with a harsh wind blowing. He shivered, walking up through the town. "In olden days a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking," he hummed, a spring in his step._

_Suddenly something flew straight at him and whacked him in the chest, before landing at his feet. A straw hat. Kendall bent down and picked it up, looking around for the owner._

_"Hey there! Sorry!"_

_A handsome man a couple of inches taller than Kendall, with tan skin and brown hair walked up to him, twirling a walking stick in his hand, even though he walked perfectly fine. He spoke with an English accent. "That's my hat," he said cheerfully holding out his hand. "So glad you caught it for me! You're an angel."_

_"Um, you're welcome," Kendall stuttered slightly, not really sure what to reply to the compliment. "It was nothing, really. It just flew in my direction . . ."_

_"Well, isn't that a coincidence! And now that our paths have randomly crossed, we may as well introduce ourselves. I'm James Diamond."_

_"Nice to meet you," Kendall replied as James set the straw hat back on his head, pushing it back a little with a jaunty wink. And it was suddenly clear to Kendall what had happened. He smile. "You know, I don't think there's a strong enough wind today to blow that hat off your head."_

_"You think so?" James gave a tragic sigh. "Is my cover blown, then?"_

_"Just a little," Kendall chuckled._

_"Oh well, now that we've sorted that, back to introductions! I've come from Wales," James said with a confident smile._

_"You don't sound Welsh," Kendall replied bluntly._

_"Oh, I know that. I lived in London a good few years of my life, that's where the accent comes from." James held out his hand. "You still haven't told me your name, sweetheart."_

_Kendall blushed furiously. "Kendall Mundy," he said slowly, shaking James's hand._

_"Ah, there's an Irish name if I ever heard one! Well, not the Kendall bit. That an English name?"_

_"I think so," Kendall shrugged. "Never given it much thought, really. What are you doing in Ballybeg?"_

_"Oh, just visiting. I have a great aunt here, so I tend to come over often." James gave Kendall a flirty smile. "And now I have even more reason to come back, don't I?"_

_Kendall shrugged, trying hard not to give in to what he wanted; giggling in delight. It wasn't every day that handsome men with English accents gave him their attention. "Maybe you do. I suppose it depends."_

_"Oh? Depends on what?" James's eyebrows were raised as he smirked. "How single you are?"_

_Kendall burst into laughter, because the idea was so ridiculous. "If I was taken, do you think I would be walking around town to give lunch to my brother? I'd actually have a job."_

_James sighed. "That's unfortunate. Not having a job, I mean. What do you do all day?"_

_Kendall sighed at the thought. "I help my sister knit and sell gloves."_

_"Oh. Sounds dull." James smiled again. "So, you're totally mine for the taking?"_

_Kendall laughed. "And what if I don't wanna be taken?"_

_"Hmm. Well, I guess we can arrange a compromise. Maybe I could . . . I dunno, borrow you? Then you can go off, be single and jobless again?"_

_Kendall rolled his eyes. "Why don't you just tell me what exactly you're suggesting? I'm not going to try and guess."_

_"Wow, you're kind of feisty. I like you more every second." There was a pause, where James walked closer to him, hands moving up to brush over his waist ever so lightly._

_"Well, there's this little inn up the road right there," James pointed with a grin. "We could go there, rent a room, spend the night . . ."_

_"My brothers and sisters would worry if I didn't come home," Kendall managed to say. It was difficult to speak with James standing so close to him._

_"Ah. Big family, then?" James enquired, hand lightly playing with Kendall's blonde hair._

_"Yes. I'm the youngest. Except for my sister Jo. So, um . . . I probably shouldn't." But damn, he really wanted to. So badly . . ._

_"Hmm. I suppose your family comes first. How about this." James paused, smile widening. "I need somewhere to stay anyway. So what about me going and renting a room, you can come with me, and just leave when you need to. That sound ok?"_

_It sounded way better than ok. But Kendall wanted to seem slightly indifferent, so he shrugged and said, "I suppose that could work. You go, I'll catch up. I have a reputation in this town. Not much of one, but word travels quickly."_

_"I completely understand," James replied with a wink, walking backwards in the directionof the inn. "Fifteen minutes! Don't be late, blondie!"_

_"My name is Kendall!" Kendall corrected. "You'd want to remember it!"_

_Twenty minutes later, James heard a knock on the door of his room. He hopped up and opened it, smiling in greeting. "Did you just ask at the desk which room I was in?"_

_" her I was a friend of yours. She'll believe anything."_

_Kendall stepped inside, shutting the door after him. Then James's arms were around his waist, pulling him close and pressing up close to him. Kendall's arms slid around his neck as James pulled him in for a kiss. Kendall was indeed 100% gay. But nobody knew. Not a soul. His brothers and sisters maybe had suspicions, but they'd never brought it up, so he saw no need to mention it either._

_James held Kendall tightly in his arms, his tongue wandering inside of the blonde's mouth as he tugged him onto the bed, falling with Kendall on top of him. "I don't know about you, but I'm loving this compromise," James breathed against Kendall"s mouth, pulling Kendall's jacket off and tugging his shirt over his head._

_"Mmm, me too," Kendall gasped as James's lips found his neck. James's straw hat was gone, and Kendall ran his fingers happily through James's soft hair before moving down and unbuttoning his shirt. James rolled them over so he was on top, biting on Kendall's chest as he tugged off every other garment he saw on the blonde's slender body, leaving him completely naked._

_"Ok, so you're totally single?" James checked again, lifting Kendall's long legs up around his waist._

_"Why are you asking that again?" Kendall giggled, pulling James's in for another kiss._

_"Because," James gasped against Kendall's open mouth. "You're beautiful."_

_Kendall's cheeks turned pink at his words. James grinned at him, kissing him softly. Then hungrily, because right now they both wanted each other pretty badly._

_James worked his way inside of Kendall with ease, the blonde's legs hugging his waist tightly, pulling their bodies closer together. "You feel amazing," James moaned, hands planted on the pillow either side of Kendall's head. He saw Kendall's face screwed up a little and frowned. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"_

_"A little," Kendall replied softly, giving him a smile. "But I'm fine. I want this."_

_James began sliding in and out of Kendall with a grunt, loving the sounds that spilled from between Kendall's full lips, smiling down at him at little intervals when he had to stop to catch his breath. And after a few minutes, impatience took over and James moved faster, panting against Kendall's neck as sweat slid down his forehead. "Kendall . . . you feel so good . . ."_

_Kendall just moaned weakly in response, hands gripping James's back as his fingernails dragged over his skin. James gasped at the feeling, hands grabbing Kendall's hips and thrusting in a little harder. Kendall screamed in pleasure, suddenly clamping a hand over his mouth. The place probably had thin walls. James laughed, moving faster and taking Kendall's hand away, leaning in for another kiss._

_When they finished, Kendall had to push James's heavy body off him, gaping weakly for breath. James chuckled as he watched him. "You're adorable, you know that?"_

_Kendall shook his head, cheeks flushing. Well, flushing more. "I'm not at all. But thank you." He rolled onto his side and cuddled up against James, sighing happily when James wrapped an arm around him._

_James suddenly bit his lip. "Oh. Um, something's just occurred to me. You're not sixteen or anything, are you? That'd be kind of awkward. And illegal."_

_Kendall giggled, pressing a kiss to James's strong jaw. "I'm just twenty. So no worries."_

_"Ok, that's a relief," James chuckled, pulling Kendall closer to his chest, the blonde's head resting comfortably on his shoulder._

_"Oh yeah? You twenty? You look a little older."_

_"I'm twenty-seven," James replied with a slightly nervous smile. "Not too far off. Though I feel like I'm getting old now."_

_"That why you've got a walking stick?"_

_"No, no. I just like having it. Not sure exactly why. It's fun to walk around, give it a twirl. Gives me an edge."_

_Kendall laughed. "An edge. Ok, I completely understand, James Diamomd."_

_"You're mocking me. I'm hurt," James sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart. "So, tell me, blondie. Do you like dancing?"_

_Kendall was surprised by the sudden question, but replied honestly, "I love dancing. More than most things."_

_"Great!" James's face lit up. "I heard the harvest dance was coming up. It's quite a party around here, am I right?"_

_"Yes, that's very true," Kendall replied, slightly nervous about what James might possibly say next._

_"So, would you be interested if I offered to take you?" James asked._

_"Oh." Kendall bit his lip. "I, I'm not sure if I could."_

_"Oh, ok." James's face fell. "I get it."_

_"It's not that I don't want to go with you," Kendall said quickly. "I do. Thing is, my family would all be there, and they . . . they don't know I like men. They think I'm normal."_

_"What's abnormal about not liking women?" James questioned, running a hand through Kendall's hair. "I mean, I don't have a preference between them, but since you do, you shouldn't be afraid to show it."_

_"My brother Logan is very religious," Kendall replied sadly. "His beliefs can be a bit in an overkill . . . I just don't know how they would react and that bothers me."_

_"I see. Hmm." James looked thoughtful for a second, before he smiled again. "Alright, how about we both go to the dance. Not together. We can arrange a time, and we'll sneak off from your family. Maybe on the outskirts, where you can still hear the music but nobody will see us. One dance?"_

_Kendall grinned and nodded. "Ok. That sounds perfect."_

_When Kendall left and went home, he answered his family's questions by offhandedly replying that he went for a long walk around before coming home._

_They ended up with a lot more than one dance. They just couldn't let each other go._

"Wouldn't it be a good one?" Kendall said slowly, a smile on his face. "If we all went?"

"Went where?" Jo asked.

"To the harvest dance!"

"Kendall!" Camille exclaimed, looking amazed.

"Like we used to!" Kendall continued excitedly. "Wouldn't you go?"

"I'd go with you, Ken!" Jo replied, holding his hands.

"For heaven's sake!" Logan sighed, annoyed. "You're not serious, are you?"

"I am, Logan!" Kendall replied determinedly, hopping to his feet and walking over.

Logan met him halfway, laughing. "Ha! There's more than Ballybeg off its head lately!"

"We should all go!" Kendall persisted.

"Oh God, have you any idea what it would be like?" Logan cried in disgust. "Crawling with those cheeky brats I taught years ago!"

"I'm up for it!" Kendall replied firmly.

"We couldn't really, could we?" Camille asked. She sounded doubtful but excited.

"What do you say?" Kendall asked Logan.

"No no, this is silly talk!" Logan replied, shaking his head. "We can't, Kendall! How could we?"

"Would Carlos go with us?" Jo asked, standing up too.

"Oh please, try and stop him!" Camille laughed.

"Camille, you have a seven year old daughter, have you forgotten that? And who'd look after Gustavo?" Logan continued, panicked.

"We're going!" Kendall told him firmly. Though he couldn't hide his excitement.

"Are we?" Logan said weakly. His resistance was crumbling and they all knew it.

"We're off, we're away!" Jo cheered, spinning Camille around.

"Are we all mad?" Logan questioned softly.

"It cotst four and six to get in," Camille piped up.

"I've got five pounds saved!" Kendall told her with a grin. "I'll take everyone!"

"Wait!" Logan said, louder this time. "Now hold on—"

"Logan, how many years has it been since we were at the harvest dance?" Kendall demanded, almost pleaded. Because if we was being totally honest, he was desperate. "At any dance? At least seven years! I don't care how young and drunk and dirty—" He bit his lip and his cheeks flushed at the memory — "and how sweaty they are! I want to dance, Logan! It's the festival of Lughnasa, for crying out loud! I'm not even thirty yet! I want to dance!"

"I . . . I know, Kendall," Logan said softly. "I know. All the same . . . I just—I don't know if—"

"It's settled," Kendall interrupted, determined not to let him finish. "We're going, the Mundys, all five of us together!"

"Like we used to!" Jo squealed in delight. "I love you Kendall! More than chocolate biscuits!"

Kendall laughed amd cheered with her as they spun around the room, singing at the tops of their voices. "'Twas on the Isle of Capri that he found her, beneath the shade of the old—"

"NO!" Logan shouted, storming forward and yanking them apart. "No! We're going nowhere!"

Everyone stood still, shocked. "If we all want to go—" Camille started.

"Look at yourselves!" Logan snarled. "Mature adults of our age, dancing at this time of day! That's for young people, with no responsibilities and no duties!"

"Logan," Kendall began timidly. "I think we—"

"Do you want the whole countryside laughing at us?" Logan continued.

"They wouldn't laugh—"

"And this is Father Gustavo's home!" Logan finished. "We must never forget that. No, we're going nowhere!"

"But, Logie—" Jo whined, pulling in his sleeve.

"The matter is over!" Logan snapped, yanking his arm back and walking over to the dresser. "I do not want it mentioned again!"

A gloomy atmosphere came over the kitchen. Camille went back to her ironing silently. Jo walked over to the knitting. And Kendall followed her, lip caught between his teeth as he tried desperately hard not to cry. Maybe remembering was a bad idea after all.

_Sometimes I heard Kendall and my mother, or maybe Jo, talking about past harvest dances in hushed voices. It excited me; the stories about drunken dances, and bonfires and singing. It sounded like the most wonderful thing in the world to me. And to them, it probably was. Even Logan. Sometimes I couldn't help associating the wild freeness of the dance with Gustavo's strange tribal rituals, and I thought maybe that was what frightened poor uncle Logan. And I had no idea why the dances meant so much to Kendall. Maybe because he found less enjoyment in his daily life than the others did. Mother had a child, someone to live for. Jo was happily living in her own little world. Carlos sang and made jokes, bringing life to the cottage. Logan was so proper and believed in authority so strongly that his job was fulfilling. What did Kendall have? Day after day of helping Jo with her weak method of making a living._

_Well, he did have James. In a way. But nobody knew about that. Not until Lughnasa was almost over._

Carlos picked up his bucket, leaving the henhouse and walking back to the side of the cottage. And there was Katie, still working on her silly kites. He smiled, holding his hands cupped together as if he were holding something in between, balancing the bucket handle on his arm. "The fox is back," he said as a greeting.

"Did you see him?" Katie asked, looking up.

"He has a hole chewed through the henhouse door," Carlos continued.

"Did you get a good look at him, uncle Carlos?"

Carlos chuckled, kneeling down beside her. "I was talking to him and everything! He was asking for you!"

"Haha," Katie replied dully, unamused. Then she frowned, looking puzzled. "What've you got in your hands?"

"Something I've found," Carlos replied, trying to stay serious.

"What?"

"It was sitting very still at the foot of the holly tree," Carlos continued in a mysterious tone.

"Show me!"

"Say please three times," Carlos grinned.

Katie sighed. "Please, please, please."

"In Swahili!"

"Are you going to show me or not?"

"Ok, ok." Carlos held his cupped hands out. "Put your ear over here, love. Shh. Do you hear it?"

"I think so," Katie replied seriously. "Yes, I do."

"What do you hear?" Carlos asked, trying not to laugh.

"Something."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! Show me!"

"Ok, get back a bit," Carlos instructed. She shuffled back on her knees, and he slowly opened his hands, looking up at the sky. "There! Wasn't it wonderful?"

"Was it a bird?" Katie asked, completely dumbfounded.

"The colours are just so beautiful," Carlos sighed with a grin. He got to his feet. "The problem is, one glance is all you'll ever get. And if you miss that . . ."

He was walking towards the back door when he heard the desperate plea behind him. "What was it, uncle Carlos?"

Carlos laughed, smirking over his shoulder. "You know what it was? It was all in your mind! Now we're even!"  
  



	4. Chapter 4

  
"I'm sick of your white rooster, Jo!" Carlos sighed, storming into the kitchen. "Some pet he is! Look at the lump he took out of my arm!"

Jo hopped up and took Carlos's arm, examining the wound before coming to the conclusion, "You don't speak to him right."

Carlos smirked. "I'll tell you the speaking he'll get from me! The weight of my boot!"

"Your ten wild woodbine, Carlos," Logan piped up, handing him the box of cigarettes.

"Great! I needed this!" Carlos cheered, opening the box and taking one out.

"You missed it all, Carlos!" Jo said in a whisper.

"What did I miss this time?"

"We were all going to the harvest dance!" Jo replied tragically. "Like the old days! But then Logan—"

"Doesn't Gustavo sometimes call you Obdul too, Carlos?" Camille asked quickly, silencing Jo with a glare. Poor Logan looked stressed enough as it was.

"Yeah. What does it mean?" Carlos asked.

"Logan says Obdul was his house boy."

"Dammit!" Carlos cursed, grinning widely. "I thought it was Swahili for handsome!"

"Carlos!" Kendall giggled.

"Here's the battery for Marconi," Logan said, taking it out and handing it to Camille. "The man in the shop said we go through these quicker than anyone else in Ballybeg!"

"Good for us!" Kendall grinned, earning a scowl from Logan as Camille hooked up the battery to the radio.

"I met Father Griffin in town today," Logan sighed. "I don't know what's gotten into him, but ever since Gustavo came home he can hardly look me in the eye!"

"That's because you keep winking at him!" Carlos teased.

"He's always been a bit strange and moody," Camille said comfortingly.

"Hmm, maybe that's it." Logan resumed his unpacking. "Paper, candles, matches . . . the word's not good on the Sweeney boy from the back hills. He was anointed last night."

"I never knew he was dying!" Carlos exclaimed in shock, sitting down.

"There's not an inch of his body that isn't burnt," Logan said sadly. "He knows he's dying, the poor boy."

"Does anyone know what happened?" Kendall asked.

"Oh, some silly prank," Logan shrugged.

"What sort of prank?" Camille persisted.

"How would I know?"

"Well, what are they saying in town?"

"I don't know any more than I've told you, Camille!" Logan snapped.

There was silence for a second. Then Jo spoke up, putting on a brave face. "It was last Sunday night, and they were doing what they do every year for the festival of Lughnasa."

"Festival of Lughnasa!" Logan scoffed.

"First they light a bonfire," Jo spoke, knowing she had everyone's attention. "And they dance around it. Then they drive their cattle through the flames, to banish the devil out of them!"

"Banish the—Jo!" Logan looked furious. "You don't know the first thing about—"

"And this year there was a huge crowd of boys and girls, and they were off their heads with drink! Then Sweeney's trousers caught fire and he went up like a torch." Jo finished with a smug nod. "That's what happened."

"Who filled your head with that nonsense?"

"I'm telling you, that's what happened!"

"And they're savages!" Logan yelled. "I know those people! I've taught them, they're savages! And what pagan practices they take part in are no concern of ours! It's a sorry day to hear talk like that in a Christian home!"

There was silence.

"In a Catholic home!" Logan emphasised. "I'm shocked and disappointed to hear you repeating rubbish like that, Jo!"

Jo shrugged. "Well, that's what happened."

Logan sighed, turning back to his unpacking. Suddenly there was a banging noise at the door, and they all turned and grinned in delight to see Gustavo shuffling in through the back door. As he stared at them in what could only be bewilderment, their smiles fell. He truly didn't recognise them.

"I'm sorry," Gustavo said hoarsely. "This must be the wrong apartment . . ."

"Come in and join us, Gustavo!" Logan said quickly, leading him into a chair.

"May I?"

"You're looking well," Carlos smiled.

"It's so strange . . . I expected to walk into my bedroom through that door."

Nobody knew what to say.

"Did you go into the village to buy stores, Kendall?" Gustavo asked, looking at Logan.

Logan bit his lip. "I'm Logan, actually. Um, people were asking for you!"

"They remember me?"

"If course they do!" Logan beamed with false enthusiasm. "And when you're stronger they'll have a big public welcome for you! With bands and speeches and everything!"

"Why would they do that?"

"Because they're happy you're back," Logan replied weakly. "They're happy you're home."

Gustavo sighed mournfully. "I don't remember them. I couldn't name ten people in Ballybeg now."

"Don't worry, it'll all come back to you," Kendall reassured him.

"Perhaps. I . . ." Gustavo struggled to his feet. "This new climate . . . it's so cold. I think I'll go lie down for a while . . ."

He trailed off out of the room, muttering to himself.

"It'll be a slow process," Logan said reassuringly to the crestfallen faces around him. "But he'll be fine!" When nobody answered him, he sighed and continued his unpacking. "Let's see . . . flour . . . butter . . . oh! Carlos, you'll never guess who I met in the post office today!"

Carlos looked up as Logan sat next to him. "Yes?"

"Your old friend, Dak Zevon!" Logan told him with a smile. "Home from London for the first time in fifteen years!"

"Dak! Really?"

Logan nodded. "And beside him, two of the most beautiful children I've ever seen! Twin girls! They'll be thirteen next month! And the image of him, I can't tell you!"

"Twin girls?" Carlos echoed, beaming, almost in awe.

"Nina and Nora," Logan confirmed.

"Mother used to say twins are a double blessing," Jo piped up.

"Oh, and wait til you hear! They're blonde! Pure blonde! I asked him where in God's name they got the hair from, and he told me, 'Their mother, Jennifer.'" Logan was chuckling. "She's from Stockholm!"

"Where's Stockholm?" Jo asked Kendall, who just stared at her.

"Well there you have it! Dak Zevon, married to a Swede! But the same bubbly, laughing Dak, asking for everyone by name!"

"He remembered us?" Camille said incredulously.

"He knew all about Katie, had her age to the very month!" Logan replied with a nod. "Was Kendall still the quickest knitter in Ballybeg, and the quietest boy he'd ever met?"

Kendall blushed.

"Were none of us still thinking about getting married? And weren't we wise!"

"Did he remember me?" Jo asked eagerly.

"Jo had the sweetest smile I ever saw," Logan quoted with a wink.

Jo beamed from ear to ear.

Carlos had got up and was walking towards the window, looking out at the garden. He watched Katie in the garden, but he wasn't really seeing her. He could only think of Dak.

"He was asking for you especially, Carlos," Logan continued, watching him. "How you were doing, what you were doing. He said that every time he thinks about you, he has this memory of the two of you sitting behind the turf stack, sharing a cigarette and laughing about some boy . . . um, Curly Somebody?"

"Curly McDaid," Carlos laughed. "Am eejit of a fella. He was bald as an egg when he turned seventeen!" His smile fell as he stared dazedly out the window. "Dak Zevon . . . oh my goodness . . ."

"Will he be around for long?" Kendall asked.

"No, he's leaving tomorrow," Logan replied sadly. "So we won't get to see him again. It's a pity."

"Nina and Nora are nice names, aren't they?" Camille smiled.

"I like the name Nora," Logan agreed. "It's a nice, strong name. Not too sure about Nina, though." He looked over at Kendall. "Do you like Nina for a name?"

Kendall frowned, shaking his head. "Not a lot."

"Well, if there's a Saint Nina, she's not in my prayer book," Logan said with a nod.

Kendall giggled. "Maybe she's a Swedish saint!"

"Ha!" Logan rolled his eyes. "Saints in Sweden! What'll be next?"

"Mother used to say twins are a double blessing," Jo said with a smile.

"You've offered us that cheap wisdom already!" Logan said sternly.

A sigh from the window caught their attention. "Carlos, are you ok?" Camille asked.

Carlos sighed again. "When I was sixteen, I remember slipping out one night with Dak, to go to a dance in Ardstraw. At the time I was being pestered by this girl called Marcy Davis, but it was really Stephanie King that I liked." He smiled dreamily. "Remember Stephanie, with the thick hair and the longest eyelashes you ever saw? But she was mad about Dak, of course. So anyway, the two of us took the girls on the bar of our bikes and set off, ten miles each way." He chuckled. "If poor Father had known, may he rest in peace."

Logan quickly blessed himself, and the glare he gave the others drove them to do so too.

"At the end of the night there was this competition for the best military two-step. It was down to three couples; a man and woman from Ardstraw, Marcy and myself, and Stephanie and Dak. And I swear, they were jut so wonderful together. People stopped dancing and just gazed at them. And then when the judges announced the winners . . . they were probably blind drunk. Naturally, the local couple came first, then Marcy and I came second, then Dak and Stephanie third. And the poor things, they were stunned. It wasn't fair at all. They were so perfect together . . . those judges must have been blind drunk, whoever they were."

They could all hear the bitterness in Carlos's voice. "The next thing I heard, Stephanie had left for Australia. I guess she couldn't stick it around here any longer."

Carlos sighed again, and four more voices sighed in unison after him. "Well, is it working now?" Logan asked Camille, who was still standing at the table.

"What?" Camille asked, puzzled.

"Marconi," Logan replied with a smile.

"Oh! It should be." Camille walked over and switched the radio on.

An update Irish dance song filled the room. Camille smiled in triumph and they went back to their work. Carlos stayed by the window, feet tapping to the best. He could feel his breath quickening. He felt defiant, determined. He walked away frm the window, surveying his brothers and sisters. Then he took a deep breath, and screamed, "WOO HOO!"

He began dancing around the room, bootlaces flying, the brothers and sisters watching him in amazement. "Come on and join me!" he shouted in glee, laughing out loud. "Come on!"

Then Kendall's face lit up. He threw down his knitting and leaped up, grabbing Carlos's hand and spinning around with him. They sang—well, shouted— together, Jo suddenly leaping up with a shriek and dancing with them. They spun around, laughing and cheering. Then Camille dumped her iron on the table and leaped in with them, spinning and dancing around in a circle.

"Oh, Camille!" Logan groaned, watching the scene with disapproving eyes.

But nobody listened to him. The dance the other four were doing was just about recognisable. But the sound was too loud, the beat too fast, too wild.

And then finally Logan suddenly leaped to his feet, throwing his head back and screaming, "WOOHOO!" He danced alone, concentrated and private, a wave of complex steps that took him quickly around the kitchen. Unlike the others, he made no sound. Out of all of them, Jo danced most wildly, almost with no rhythm, and Kendall danced with the most grace and skill.

Then suddenly, the radio gave out and the music stopped abruptly. For a moment or two, they were making so much noise that they didn't notice. Then Logan noticed first, and stopped with wide eyes. Then Kendall did. Then Camille and Carlos did. For another second Jo danced around without a beat, before she finally noticed and stopped too.

They quickly returned to their seats. Eyes met in embarrassing gazes, cheeks flushing. Kendall and Jo couldn't stop giggling, and Carlos was trying to keep control himself.

"Um, it's a-away again, that thing," Camille stuttered, biting her lip at the end of the sentence. "Sometimes you're good with it, Kendall."

"Feel the top," Kendall said awkwardly, clearing his throat. "Is it warm?"

"It's roasting."

"Turn it off until it cools down."

Camille did, and slapped the radio in frustration. "It's a goddamn bloody useless set!"

"Goddamn bloody useless!" Jo echoed like a child.

"Are wellingtons really necessary on a day like this, Jo?" Logan asked critically.

"Well, I've only got my wellingtons and my Sunday shoes," Jo replied cheekily. "And it's not Sunday, is it?"

"Oh dear," Logan murmured sarcastically. "We're suddenly very logical." He looked around for someone else to tell off. It didn't take him long. "Go wash your face, Carlos! And for God's sake, tie your laces!"

"Yes, sir!" Carlos replied with a wink, still in high spirits as he walked towards the door. He opened it and looked out. "Where's Katie, Camille?"

"She's working on those kites, isn't she?" Camille asked, folding Gustavo's surplice.

"No, she's not there."

"She won't go far."

"She was there ten minutes ago."

"She'll be alright."

"But if she wanders down the old well—"

"Will you just leave her alone for once!" Camille snapped, running a hand through her hair, "Please!"

Carlos shrugged and walked outside.

"Who's making dinner this evening?" Logan asked.

"Who makes it every evening?" Kendall replied, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

"If you ask me, we should throw this thing out," Camille sighed, glaring at Marconi.

"I'd be all for that." Kendall nodded. "It's junk, that set."

"Oh!" Logan laughed nastily, standing up and staring down at Kendall. "And you'll buy a new one?"

"It was never any good," Kendall replied steadily.

"You'll buy it out f your glove money, will you?" Logan scoffed. "I thought what you and Jo earned was barely sufficient to clothe the both of you!"

"This isn't your classroom, Logan," Kendall whispered at the floor.

"Because I certainly don't see any of it being offered for the upkeep of the house!"

"Please, Logan—"

"But now it stretches all the way to buying a new wireless!" Logan flung his hands in the air. "Wonderful!"

Camille and Jo watched with sad eyes. Now, normally when things like this happened, Kendall would go quiet, defeated as he zoned out to find comfort in some daydream. But this time Kendall got to his feet, quite literally standing up to Logan, for one. "I make every meal you sit down to every day of the week," he said softly, hot angry tears pricking his eyes.

"Maybe I should start knitting gloves?"

"I wash every stitch of clothes you wear!" Kendall continued, getting louder and angrier. "I polish your shoes, I make your bed! We both do, Jo and I! Paint the house, cut the grass, sweep the chimney and save the turf—do you know what you have here, Logan? Two unpaid servants!"

Suddenly Carlos sprinted into the kitchen with wide eyes. "Oh my God, wait until you see!"

He hurried over to the window the looked out on the front of the garden. "Look who's coming up the lane!"

"Who?" Kendall asked, looking worried.

"I only caught a quick glimpse of him," Carlos was continuing. "But I'm pretty sure it's—it has to be—"

"Who is it?" four impatient voices yelled.

Carlos turned to Camille, running over to her and pulling her away from the table. "It's James Diamond, Cam!"

"Oh my God!" Camille exclaimed, eyes wide and terrified.

"He's at the bend in the lane!"

"Oh, Christ Almighty!"

Carlos darted to the wall to grab the sweeping brush, Logan running to put the groceries away, Jo following her. Camille just sat in a chair, looking stunned and terrified. Kendall, meanwhile, had grabbed a half-knitted pair of gloves and was working on it with intense concentration, determined to try and ignore what was going on around him. Meanwhile, the others ran around the room frantically, bumping into each other and squealing.

"How dare Mr Diamond show his face here!" Logan said furiously.

"He wants to see his daughter, doesn't he?"

"Carlos, there is no welcome for that creature here!"

"Who hid my Sunday shoes?" Jo demanded, peering under a chair.

"We'll have to give him his tea!" Carlos groaned.

"Ha!" Logan slammed the newspaper down on the turf box. "I don't see why we should!"

"And we've nothing in the house!"

"He has no business coming here, upsetting everyone!"

"You're right, Logan!" Jo nodded. "I hate him!"

"Has anybody got spare shoelaces?" Carlos asked, staring at his trailing bootlaces with a scowl.

"Look at the state of the floor!" Logan shrieked.

"Maybe he just wants to meet Gustavo!"

"Oh, Gutavo may have something to say to James Diamond all right!" Logan turned and frowned at the pile of laundry on the table. "Kendall, put those clothes away!"

Kendall didn't hear him, so Logan just sighed and grabbed them himself.

"He won't stay the night, will he Logan?" Jo asked worriedly.

"No he most certainly won't! Not in this house!"

"Kendall, do you have some cord?" Carlos demanded. "Anyobody got a bit of twine?"

"Ok!" Logan took a deep breath, stopping his frantic cleaning. "Behave normally. Be very calm, and dignified and—Jo, stop peeping out!"

Kendall sat in his chair, his needles clicking away, images of nights in the inn and drunken whispers across the pillows filling his head. _Just keep knitting, just keep knitting . . ._

"There's nobody there!" Jo said, frowning in confusion.

_Oh, screw this._

Kendall threw his knitting on the floor, running over to the window and pushing Jo aside. "Let me see!"

"You imagined it, Carlos!" Jo cried.

"Oh God . . ." Camille whispered. Kendall's thoughts were the same.

"He's not there at all."

"Yes he is," Kendall said softly, tapping Jo on the shoulder. "Look, there he is."

There was James Diamond, strolling up the lane, swinging his walking stick, straw hat atop his head of soft brown hair. He caught sight of the two faces staring at him through the window and waved, giving a wink and a cheeky grin. Jo sighed in distaste and left the window, while Kendall stayed, cheeks blushing scarlet as James's eyes watched him. Then eventually the older man gave him another wave, blew him a kiss, unseen by the others, and walked off to the side of the house, toward the garden.

"I couldn't look that man in the face!" Jo snarled, heading off towards her bedroom. "I just hate him!"

"That's a very unchristian thing to say, Jo!" Logan called after her.

"Look at the state of me!" Camille was panicking, turning to Logan. "Look at my hands, Logan! I'm shaking!"

Kendall felt no sympathy. He slumped back into his chair and picked his knitting back up.

"You're not shaking," Logan said patiently, holding her hands tightly. "You're calm, and you look becautiful. Now, what you're going to do is this. You'll meet him outside. You'll tell him his daughter is healthy and happy. And then you'll send him packing. You and Katie are managing fine without him, as you always have."

Camille stared at him, tears in her eyes. Logan sighed, giving her a hug. "Of course, ask him in. Give the creature his tea. And . . . and to stay the night if he wants." He pulled back, stern again. "But in the outside loft. And alone."

At the last word Camille gave a shaky giggle and Kendall felt his heart sink.

"Where is he, Carlos?" Kendall asked in a whisper, refusing to look up.

"He's in the garden!"

Camille took a deep breath and walked out the back door. Immediately Carlos stood by the window next to the back door. Logan sat down with his newspaper in the closest chair, pretending not to look. Kendall knitted.

Camille gave James a small smile in greeting, shutting the door and walking over.

"How are you, Camille?" James winked. "Great to see you!"

"Hello, James."

"How've you been the past six months?"

Camille sighed. "It's been thirteen months. Your last visit was July. July last year."

"Wow, never!" James acted terribly surprised. "Where does the time go? I swear, so many times I planned to visit, but something turned up and I just couldn't get away!"

"Well, you're here now," Camille shrugged.

Inside, Carlos was chuckling. "The poor man looks terrified."

"Terrified, my foot!" Logan scoffed, face buried in his paper.

"Come over and see, Kendall!"

"Not now," Kendall replied bluntly, eyes on the floor.

"You're looking wonderful, Camille," James was saying with a grin.

"My hair is a state," Camille sighed.

"Ah, it looks lovely to me!" James grinned.

"Jo was going to wash it for me tonight . . ."

"And how is Jo?"

"She's good."

"And Logan and Carlos?"

"Grand."

James smiled. "And Kendall?"

"Everybody's well, thanks," Camille replied immediately as they sat down n the garden seat.

James's smile widened as his eyes left Camille's for a moment. "Tell him I was asking for him. Kendall."

Camille nodded, frowning slightly. "I'd invite you in, but—"

"No no, some other time, maybe! My schedule's a bit tight today. Oh, I met this chap in a bar downtown, and he told me Gustavo is home! Lucky man!"

"Yes, he is," Camille smiled.

And thus came the awkward silence.

"He's not still there, is he?" Logan demanded. When Carlos nodded, he exclaimed, "Doing what, in God's name?"

"Talking," Carlos shrugged.

"Can someone tell me what on earth they have to say to each other?"

"He's Katie's father, Logan."

"Oh, that's a responibility that never seemed to burden James Diamond! Why does he even keep coming back here?"

"This traveller from London called into Logan's school last Easter," Camille said suddenly. "He had some silly story about you giving dance lessons there last winter?"

"He was right!"

"He was not!" Camille scoffed. "Real lessons? What sort of dancing?"

"Oh, strictly ballroom! Though you should have been giving them. You were always far better than me. . ." James bit his lip. "Yeah, I enjoyed that."

"And people came to you to be taught?"

"Cam, everyone wants to dance! I had thousands of pupils! Millions!"

"James," Camille said bluntly, folding her arms.

"Ok, fifty three. I admit it, I'm a liar! But listen, I've started a new career as a gramophone salesman! Agent for the whole country! All I have to do is pass the orders on to Dublin, it's a very big enterprise!"

"So it's going alright for you?"

"Fabulous!" James paused. His eyes moved to the sycamore tree and the bushes nearby. "Don't look now," he whispered. "She's watching us from behind that bush."

"Who? Katie?"

"Shh, pretend you didn't notice. She at school now?"

"Yep, since last Christmas. Logan got her in early."

"Does she enjoy it?"

"Oh, she doesn't say much."

"She must adore it! They all love school nowadays!" James paused. "I meant to bring her something small—"

"Oh no, she's spoilt by—"

"Jut a token, really! I met a man with a bike shop in Kilkenny, but he only had black. I thought that was a little too, you know, manly. So he took my name, I'll call in next time I'm there! Are you busy yourself?"

Camille laughed. "Oh, the usual. Housework. Looking after her Majesty. The odd bit of knitting or sewing."

"You should see the way she looks at him," Carlos sighed. "You'd think he was the biggest toff in the world."

"Ha! Tinker, more likely! And she knows it too!" Logan sighed. He slammed his paper down. "They're not still talking, are they?"

"They're laughing. Do you hear them, Kendall?"

"Yes," Kendall mumbled at the floor.

"Laughing? Completely beyond my comprehension!"

"Like so many things, Logan!" Kendall replied with a bitter smirk.

"Two more minutes, and he's going to talk to me!" Logan finished, cheeks pink with anger.

"I'm thinking of going away for a while, Camille," James sighed. "But I'll come back to say goodbye first."

"Are you going home to Wales? Or somewhere else?" Camille asked, stricken.

"Wales isn't my home anymore. My home is here."

Camille's face lit up.

"Well, Ireland," James added quickly, realising his mistake. "To Spain, actually! To do some fighting with the International Brigade! The company leaves in a few weeks."

"Are you serious?"

"Homestly, I'm a bit surprised myself."

"What do you know about Spain anyway?"

"I, I know a little. I know enough. Anyway, I thought I'd try working for a big cause, for a change. It's just the everyday stuff I'm not so good at." He gave a mournful sigh. Commitment, relationships, honesty . . he had no knack for any of them. "Katie is still watching us, I wouldn't mind talking to her."

"She's a bit shy."

"Naturally. And I'm practilly a stranger." James smiled. "She's a very pretty child. With your eyes, lucky girl."

Suddenly the air filled with music, as 'Dancing in the dark' began to softly play from the radio.

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at it for a second. "Good for you, Kendall!" Carlos praised.

"I didn't touch it."

"Turn it off, will you?" Logan asked.

Kendall didn't. Though he probably should have.

"You have a gramophone?" James was frowning.

"No, it's a wireless set. It doesn't go half the time. Kendall thinks it's a heap of junk."

"Hmm." James looked thoughtful, eyes on the back door. "I don't know much about radios, but I can take a look—"

"No no," Camille said quickly. "Some other time! When you come back."

James bit his lip. "Um . . . and Kendall is well?"

"He's fine," Camille replied slowly, sure they'd already been over this.

"You know, of all your family, Kendall always objected the least to me. Tell him I was asking for him."

Camille smiled in relief at the explanation. "I'll tell him."

Suddenly James hopped to his feet, pulling Camille up and taking her in his arms, dancing around.

"James!"

"Shh. Not a word." James pressed his cheek to her hair, shutting his eyes. Maybe if she didn't speak he could drift off and pretended it was somebody else here . . .

"They're dancing!" Carlos squealed. "He has her in his arms!"

"He has not!" Logan shrieked, throwing his paper across the room and hurrying over to the window. "The animal!"

"They're dancing around the garden, Kendall," Carlos said, eyes on the window. He didn't see Kendall's hands clenched into fists so tight his hands were turning red. He suddenly couldn't breathe very well.

"Isn't he a beautiful dancer?"

"He's leading her astray again!" Logan groaned.

"Well, she's easily led," Carlos sighed. "Come over and see, Kendall!"

"I'm busy!" Kendall screamed, losing it at last. "For God's sake, can't you see I'm busy!"

Carlos stared at Kendall in amazement, before shrugging and turning back to the window.

"All James could ever do well was dance!" Logan scoffed. "Look at that fool of a woman!" He sighed, his face softening. "She looks so beautiful when she's happy. She's as gorgeous as Stephanie King any day, isn't she?"

"Do you know the words?" James asked Camille.

"I never know any words."

"Neither do I. Doesn't matter." James paused. "Camille—"

"James," Camille interrupted. "I think you should go now. Dance me down the lane and then leave, ok? I've got a lot of work today, and I'll see you when you come back."

"Alright, Camille. Anything you want."

As they danced away, the radio died and the music faded out.

_If my mother had known about Kendall and James, I'm sure she would've had nothing to do with him all those years. Or maybe she would have. I don't know; she was crazy about him, after all. Sometimes I wished he'd returned her feelings just as strongly, other times I wish she hadn't felt so much for him, only to get hurt time and time again when he promised to visit and failed yet again. But most of all I just wished James had never met my mother, that he hadn't been led astray by her, that he hadn't forgotten about that other important person in his life. Still, if that had happened, I wouldn't be here. Then again, my family's lives would have been happier if I wasn't._


	5. Chapter 5

_  
My father always seemed like some strange unearthly creature to me. He was so wild, so free, but so careless. He hurt many people with his wild antics and his lack of honesty and commitment. He never meant to hurt anybody, but he did. A lot. I know my family blamed him. But I never could, really. Maybe it was just because I'm his daughter. At that age every child loves their parents unconditionally. No matter how careless they are._

Logan left the window with a sigh. "They're away, dancing."

Carlos was frowning at the radio. "Whatever's wrong with that thing, it only seems to last a couple of minutes at a time."

"We probably won't see Mr Diamond again for another year," Logan continued bitterly. "Until the humour suddenly takes him again."

"What was that about saying unchristian things, Logan?" Kendall asked with raised eyebrows. Trying to seem casually critical of him.

"And in the meantime it's Camille's heart that gets broken," Logan went on. "That's what I mind!"

Kendall was furious. Though he knew he couldn't blame Logan for his ignorance.

"But what really infuriates me is that creature has no sense of duty! Does he ever wnder how Camille clothes and feed Katie? Does he ever ask her? Does he even care?"

Kendall got to his feet with a sigh, heading onwards the back door. "I'm going out to get my head cleared. I've had a bit of a headache all day."

"It seems to me the beasts of the field have more concern for their young than that creature has—"

"Logan, do you ever listen to yourself?" Kendall shouted, tears in his eyes. He couldn't stand this anymore. "You're such a damn righteous asshole, that's all you are! A-and his name is James! James, JAMES!"

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Kendall tore the door open and ran off, out into the darkening garden, way up past the tree and up the fields. He had to get far away as possible. He needed space to breathe. And cry his eyes out.

Logan and Carlos stared at the open door, completely stunned. "And what was that all about?" Logan wondered when he finally found his voice. "Don't I know his names is James? What am I calling him, St Patrick?"

"He's worried about Camille too, you know," Carlos shrugged, sitting next to Logan.

"There, that's what a creature like Mr Diamond does, he just appears out of nowhere and poisons the atmosphere. God forgive that . . . bastard! There, I said it!" Logan bit his lip. "God forgive me . . ."

Carlos started humming absent-mindedly. "Twas the Isle of Capri that he found her . . ."

"If you knew your prayers as well as those pagan songs—" Logan stopped, hand over his mouth. "Oh God, Kendall is right. I am a righteous asshole, amn't I?"

Carlos smiled. "Well, now we're the only two, who's up for a fox trot?"

But Logan wouldn't be cheered up. He was staring at his lap. "Y-you work hard at your job, and you try to keep the home together, because—you believe in responsibility and obligations and good order. But suddenly you realise that cracks are appearing everywhere, that control is slipping away and the whole thing is so fragile it can't be led together much longer." He turned to look at Carlos with wide and worried eyes. "It's all about to collapse, Carlos!"

"Nothing's about to collapse, Logan," Carlos replied soothingly, wrapping an arm around his brother's shoulders.

"That Sweeney boy from the back hills—his trousers didn't catch fire like Jo said. They were doing some sacrifice for Lughnasa—some devilish thing with a poor goat, and Sweeney was so drunk he just toppled over into the bonfire. I . . . I don't know why that came into my head."

"Logan . . ."

"And now Mr Diamond is off again, probably for another year. And in the next week or so Camille will collapse into one of her depressions," Logan continued, voice getting quicker by the second. "Remember last winter, all the sobbing? I don't think I could go through that again . . . and the doctor says he doesn't think Gustavo's mind is confused, but that his superiors had no choice but to send him home! Whatever he means by that, Carlos . . ."

"Logan—"

"And Father Griffin did talk to me today! He said the numbers at the school are falling and there mightn't be a job for me after the summer. But the numbers aren't falling, Carlos! Why is he telling me lies? Why does he want rid of me? And why hasn't he come to visit Gustavo?" Logan tried to smile, though a tear fell down his cheek. "If he gives me the push, we can all stay at home together, dancing to Marconi all day long . . ."

"Oh, Logan," Carlos whispered, hugging his brother tightly.

"B-but what worries me most is Jo," Logan sniffled. "If I died, if I lost my job . . . what would become of our Jo?"

"Shh . . ."

"I must put my trust in God, mustn't I, Carlos? He'll look after her, won't he?" Logan was clinging to Carlos's shoulder desperately. "And Kendall too? And Camille and Katie a-and the rest of us . . . Carlos, why is Kendall always so unhappy? Why doesn't Katie have any friends? What's wrong with all of us? Are we that much of a messed up—"

"Hush, now," Carlos said sternly. "We're not messed up, Logan. I promise."

"You don't know—"

"I do know. Now hush. I can hear Camille in the garden."

Camille had come skipping back into the back garden, smiling happily. She caught sight of Katie and went down next to her with a grin. "Well, now you've had a good look at him! What do you think of him?"

Katie looked completely disinterested. "I never saw him before."

"Shh!" Camille said playfully, nudging her. "Yes you have! Five or six times. You must've forgotten. He saw you earlier, he thinks you're very pretty!"

"Uncle Logan got me a spinning top but it doesn't spin," Katie was saying with a frown.

"He's handsome, isn't he?" Camille smiled.

"Give up."

"I'll tell you a secret," Camille continued, beaming. "He has a great new job, and he's wonderful at it! And he's bought a bicycle for you—a blue one! He's going to bring it next time he comes." She gave her a hug.

"Is he coming back soon?" Katie asked, suddenly taking interest.

"Um, maybe. Yes, yes he is!"

"How soon?"

"Oh, next week . . . the week after . . . soon! Oh yes." Camille sighed dreamily. "You have a handsome father. You're a very lucky girl, and I'm a very lucky woman." Camille kissed Katie on the forehead amd hopped to her feet. "Oh, and I have another good bit of news for you, lucky girl! You have your mother's eyes!"

* * *

Kendall found it difficult to run when he was crying so hard.

He couldn't breathe, his sight was blurry with tears. Eventually he stopped amd just collapsed on the grass, sitting there and sobbing. As he tried to dry the tears and control his crying, he looked up and suddenly realised where he was. Up the hill behind their home was a large field not used often, and at the top stood clumps of trees and bushes, some widespread, some tightly together. He got up and shakily walked to the spot he knew so well; a clump of tall bushes that hid him completely from view. They stood tall but kind of grew over and around him. It was like a small hut, almost. A very small one. But he could happily lie down, or sit in it. And he'd done both of those very frequently, all the times they'd used this as a meeting spot.

Him and James.

Tears fell down Kendall's face again. Maybe James truly didn't care about him at all anymore. Maybe he never had at all. Maybe he'd just been using him . . .

Suddenly he heard rustling, and froze. He hugged his knees, resting his chin on them and watching the space in front of him. Somebody was coming through the trees. He just sat perfectly still, praying they wouldn't find him. Especially if he knew them; he didn't need to explain anything to them right now.

Then a foot appeared on the other side of the bushes, followed by a long leg, amd a strong body and a concerned face. A walking stick and a straw hat.

"Hi," Kendall mumbled, wishing it wasn't so obvious that he'd been crying.

"I was hoping you might come here." James knelt down next to Kendall. "I wanted to see you so badly."

Kendall sniffled, giving James a weak smile. He just couldn't help himself.

"Don't cry," James said softly, taking Kendall in his arms and holding him against his chest. "I hate seeing you cry. I'm so sorry, Kendall."

Kendall said nothing.

"I just feel like I've ruined everything we ever had . . . I was so stupid and reckless . . . it's like all I can do I lie, to everybody." He paused. "I can't lie to you anymore, Kendall. I just can't. I have to be honest with you, I care about you too much."

Kendall looked up at James, frowning in confusion. "What are you talking about, Jamie?"

James's face lit up at the nickname, and he pressed a soft kiss to Kendall's lips. Kendall kissed him back happily, but James pulled away after a second or two. "Alright, I'm going to tell you something, and you're not going to like it. You'll probably never want anything to do with me, ever again."

"I'm not sure I wanna hear this," Kendall said nervously.

"I'm not sure I wanna tell you. But I have to. I can't lie to you, especially with what . . . what I was planning."

"What were you planning?"

James ignored the question. "Take a deep breath before I say it."

"James, please . . ."

"Ok, I know I'm putting it off. I'm the one who needs to take a breath now." He did. "Kendall . . ."

Kendall waited nervously.

"I have a son."

Kendall didn't know exactly what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. "Oh." He paused. "Another love child, you mean?"

And this was obviously what the big secret was. James slowly shook his head, and whispered, "No." He bit his lip, still whispering as he continued. All his confidence, vanished. "His name is Tyler, and he's seven. And, I know he'd love you if you met him someday . . ."

"That's why you hardly ever come to visit Camille," Kendall said softly. "You're a married man."

"Yes. I am."

"What's her name?"

"Her . . . her name is Penny. She lives in London with Tyler."

Kendall shut his eyes. "So . . . you were married, when you met me?"

"Yes. You're angry, aren't you?"

"I should be. But I'm not, I'm just . . ." Kendall wiped at his eyes again. "Why did you do it? Why did you even talk to me that day, why did you ask me to sleep with you, why did you start a relationship with me when you were already in one?"

"Because, Kendall . . ." James reached out and cupped Kendall's cheek, tilting his head up to look the tearful man in the eyes. "I saw you there, walking past me and I just . . . I knew you were the one for me."

"You already had the one for you . . ."

"No, I didn't. Look, my mother and Penny's mother pretty much drove us to marry, and neither of us wanted it. Of course, we're close friends, and I do have some feelings for her and of course there's Tyler, but it's nothing compared to what I feel for you. I swear that's the truth, Kendall. I love you so much, I . . ." Tears began to fall down James's cheeks as he looked away. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't cry, Jamie," Kendall whispered, curling up against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. "It's ok . . ."

"How can you forgive me?"

"Because. I know how you feel right now. I can't be angry with you . . . I'm not really that type anyway." Kendall smiled up at James. "I suppose I knew you were the one for me, too."

James held Kendall tightly to his body, kissing his hair. "How did I ever end up with someone as amazing as you . . ."

"With a straw hat, that's how," Kendall giggled, kissing him gently. "So, what were you going to do that required complete honesty?"

James pulled back, taking Kendall's hand in is and kissing it gently. He stared Kendall directly in the eyes.

Then he said it. "Marry me, Kendall."

Kendall gave a shaky gasp.

"Are you listening?"

"I hear you," Kendall whispered. Was this seriously happening? "But, I don't think . . ."

"I love you," James pleaded. "I'm crazy about you, you know I am!"

"When you're with me," Kendall replied shakily. Suddenly this was getting far too real, far too scary. All the cons of marrying James were crowding together and screaming in his head so loudly there was a ringing in his ears.

"Leave this town and come away with me!"

"You'd walk out on me again," Kendall choked. "You wouldn't intend to, but that's what would happen because it's in your nature and you just can't help yourself . . ."

"Not this time," James promised. "I swear it."

"What about Penny and Tyler?"

"I'm going to leave Penny, I swear I am. I've been intending to for a while now. And of course I'll visit Tyler, but all that matters right now is that I get to be with you. I promise, I swear on my life that I won't leave you. I'll stay with you. Always."

Kendall stared at him, unsure whether to believe it or not. And then he thought about what his family would think. And about Katie, and Camille. And he felt so, so guilty . . .

But maybe it was time he lived for himself, just once.

"Ok."

"Really?" James's face lit up. "You're saying yes?"

"I'm saying yes."

James leaped at Kendall, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. "I love you, I love you so much."

"I love you too," Kendall whispered, kissing him back with his arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

James pulled Kendall onto his lap, pressing a line of gentle kisses across his cheek. "Tonight," Kendall gasped as James sucked gently on his neck. There was no point in waiting, there never would be a right time to run away frm his family. "I'll pack and I'll meet you here, at midnight. We can hear the church bell from here, so we'll both know. And then we'll go."

"I'll be here," James promised, lying down on the grass in their hideout and pulling Kendall to lie on top of him. "I love you."

"I love you too," Kendall smiled, taking James's shirt off and moving his lips down to kiss his strong chest. "Tell me how much you love me, Jamie."

"Well . . ." James chuckled, pulling Kendall's shirt off and happily running his hands over Kendall's chest and around to his back. "I love your body."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're so beautiful, I can never get enough . . ." James tugged Kendall's trousers and underwear down his legs, running his hands down over Kendall's slim body as he did. "Sometimes when I look at you I want you so badly I'm tempted to take you right there in front of everybody . . ."

Kendall giggled. "I know the feeling, trust me." He sat up and gave James room to pull his own clothes off, before settling back down in his lap with a smile. James moaned instantly at the feeling, running his hand up to Kendall's hips. "Mmm, Kendall . . ."

"Keep going," Kendall whispered, slowly grinding they hips together. "I need to hear this."

"Nngghh . . ." James threw his head back in pleasure. "I love how sweet you are."

"Sweet?" Kendall repeated in an innocent voice, earning a chuckle from James. He rubbed their hips together again, smiling at the pleasured sounds James was making.

"Mmhmm, you're so shy and sweet and quiet whenever I talk to you, you're like an angel . . ." James caught his lip between his teeth. "Though you're a right little vixen in bed, aren't you?"

Kendall laughed, leaning down and kissing James hard, tongue sliding in against his. James kissed back eagerly, pushing his tongue against Kendall's and fighting for control of the kiss. Normally Kendall would just give in, but this time he pressed his tongue against James's and against every corner of his mouth with determination. James moaned in pleasure, giving up at last and letting Kendall kiss him. But Kendall had to take a breath and pulled back, gasping, his lips swollen and dark. James pulled Kendall down and kissed his neck lightly, smiling when Kendall moaned softly against him.

"I love your mouth," James grinned. "It's such a pretty mouth, especially when you moan, or laugh, or when you sing . . . I just love your voice."

"Uh huh." Kendall pressed a kiss to James's collarbone before moving up to place his hands on the grass either side of James's head. He got up on his knees and scooted forward, before slowly sinking down and pushing James's dick inside of him, squeezing his eyes shut and moaning. "Oh God . . ."

"I love it when we do this," James moaned, hands holding Kendall's hips tightly. "When we make love. It's so perfect." He chuckled. "Especially when you ride me like this."

Kendall giggled. "I love it too." He felt ready now, so he took a deep breath and started to move, slowly rocking in James's lap with little moans and gasps. "You're huge, Jamie . . . I love the way you feel inside me."

"Oh, I love it too, believe me," James chuckled, rubbing gentle circles into Kendall's hips with his fingers.

"What else do you love about me?" Kendall teased, moving up only to sink back down with a gasp, beginning to bounce a little faster in James's lap.

"Unnngh, Kendall . . ." James moaned, squeezing Kendall's hips tighter, maybe tight enough to leave bruises. Kendall hoped not. "I love your eyes."

"You do?" Kendall asked, swivelling his hips with a delighted smile.

"Mmm, yes I do. You're the only one in your family with green eyes, you know. And they're gorgeous. I could just get lost in them, all day long . . . ohh, Kendall . . ." James moaned, eyes squeezed shut as Kendall picked up the pace, moaning along with him. "I'm close . . ."

"I'm not," Kendall gasped, moving faster and groaning when he got his prostate over and over again. "Don't let go yet, Jamie."

James was finding that pretty difficult, so he reached out and took hold of Kendall's cock, stroking it gently but quickly in his hand. Kendall moaned, throwing his head back and riding James harder, thrusting his hips forward to James's hand as he did. James stroked faster and at last Kendall came, gasping as spurts of his seed painted James's chest and hand white. He shivered weakly, pulling up and out of James before collapsing on top of him. He didn't really care that he was getting cum on his own chest. He was exhausted, and he shivered again, his sweaty body starting to get cold in he chilly evening air.

"You should go back," James said softly. "I don't want you getting cold."

Kendall nodded, sitting up and climbing off James. "Use my shirt," James offered, handing it over. "I don't mind."

Kendall smiled gratefully and wiped the cum off his body, before pulling his clothes back on quickly. James was doing the same and gave him a hand to his feet pulling him in for another passionate kiss. "I'll be here at midnight," he whispered. "I'll be waiting for you."

Kendall nodded, heart pounding in his chest.

James seemed to sense his nerves, kissing him again. "I promise. And I'll never leave you, not for anything. Or anyone."

"I believe you."

Kendall left James and walked back down the hill, unable to stop smiling. On his way, he stopped in the garden and decided to pick some roses from the little flower patch Camille and Jo liked working in. He felt they'd brighten up the house a bit. By tomorrow morning their scent will fill the cottage, he thought yo himself as he held the bunch in his arms. By tomorrow . . .

He grinned again and skipped off towards the back door. Then stopped, took a deep breath, put on a serious face, and opened the door up.

When Kendall walked back into the kitchen, he caught Carlos saying, "So, James is off on his way, then?"

Camille nodded. "He thanked you for the offer of the bed. He'll be back in a week or two, depending on his commitments."

"Well, if the outside loft happens to be empty," Logan said haughtily.

"He sends his love to you all." Camille turned and spotted Kendall for the first time. "His special love to you, Kendall. And a big kiss."

"For me?" Kendall beamed. The fact that James mentioned him to Camille . . . maybe he really was going to commit to him.

"Yes, for you!"Camille replied, as if she couldn't believe it herself.

Carlos sensed the tension and quickly interrupted. "Those flowers are beautiful, Kendall. Will we put some in Gustavo's room?" He chuckled. "We can even put a card on them, saying 'Roses' so the poor man won't be demented looking for the word!" He sighed. "And now we come to the daily dilemma . . . what's for dinner?"

"Let me make dinner, Carlos," Camille smiled.

"We'll both make it! Maybe something exciting, with tomatoes? We might have two. Or if you're willing to wait, I'll make some soda bread!"

"I'm making dinner, Carlos," Kendall said quietly, leaving the roses on the dresser.

"Let me please, just today!" Camille said.

"Camille, I make the dinner every evening," Kendall snapped. Somehow all he could do was fight with her lately. Though of course, he knew why. "Why shouldn't I make it this evening as usual?"

"There's no reason at all," Carlos grinned, still struggling to keep the peace. "Kendall is the chef!"

Suddenly they all heard shuffling footsteps in the corridor, and Gustavo walked into the kitchen. "If anybody's looking for me, I'll be—" He stopped, staring at each of them in turn. "Sorry, my mind was . . ." He shuffled over to Logan, holding out his hand. "It's Logan?"

"It's Logan," Logan grinned, shaking his hand.

Gustavo walked to Kendall next, grinning. "And Kendall!"

"And Carlos!"

"And Camille!"

The four of them grinned in delight. "Yes, I remember you all clearly now. The day I went away . . . it's like a picture . . . a photograph! Like a photograph in my mind!" He turned to smile at Carlos. "You were crying, Carlos."

"Was I?"

"Yes, your face all blotchy with tears."

"Oh, well then! Dashing as ever!" Carlos laughed.

Gustavo turned to Logan. "Then there were you and Camille on Mother's right, and you both held one of Kendall's hands. Then there was Jo holding Mother's hand. Mother's face . . . it showed nothing." He frowned. "I often wondered about that."

"She knew she would never see you again in her lifetime," Camille replied sadly.

"Oh, I know that. But in the other life . . . do you think mother didn't actually believe in ancestral spirits?"

"Ancestral—! What are you on about, Gustavo?" Logan exclaimed. "Mother was a saintly woman who knew she was going straight to heaven! And—and don't forget to take your medicine, you're supposed to take it three times a day!"

Gustavo chuckled. "One of our priests took so much quinine that he became an addict . . . and almost died."

Explosive laughter filled the room, while Logan scowled at the other three.

"Anyway, this priest was rushed to hospital in Kampala but they could do nothing for him. So Obdul and I brought him to our medicine man, and he's living a long and happy life." He paused. "There was a strange white bird on my windowsill this morning."

"That's Jo's pet rooster," Kendall smirked. "Keep away from that thing."

"Look at what he did to my arm!" Carlos added. "One of these days I'll wring it's neck!"

"Hmm. We do that in Ryanga. When we want to please the spirits we sacrifice a rooster or a young goat."

Everyone's eyes widened.

"Um, did you speak Swahili all the time there?" Carlos asked awkwardly.

"Oh yes. But when we had a visitor, we would speak English."

"What you need to do is read," Logan instructed him. "It'll help your vocabulary, I read to Katie every night and it does wonders for her!"

"Yes, you're right." Gustavo smiled, looking over at Camille. "I haven't seen young Katie today, Kendall."

Kendall froze.

"It's Camille," Logan corrected.

"Oh, sorry—"

"She's around there somewhere," Camille shrugged. "Making kites."

"I still have to meet your husband."

Kendall glared, though nobody noticed.

"I'm not married," Camille replied quickly.

"Ah," Gustavo said slowly. "I see."

"Katie's father James Diamond was here a while ago," Logan piped up. "He's a Welshman . . . not that it matters—"

"So you were never married?" Gustavo asked Camille. "So that means Katie is a love child?"

"Um . . . . yes, I suppose so," Camille replied uncomfortably.

"She's a fine girl. You're lucky to have her."

"We're all lucky to have her," Kendall said at last, smiling softly.

"You know, in Ryanga women are eager to have love children. It brings good fortune. Do you have any more love children, Camille?"

"She certainly does not!" Logan cried in horror. "And as strange as it may seem, neither does Jo! And none of us had any part in creating a love child, not me, not Kendall, not Carlos! No harm to Ryanga, but you're home in Donegal now! And as much as love children are cherished in this house, they're not exactly the norm." He took a deep breath to calm himself down. "Now, let's go for a walk, the doctor said you need to exercise regularly. You make a start without me, I'll catch up. Where's my jacket . . .?"

_Some of Uncle Logan's forebodings weren't inaccurate. In fact, some of them were fulfilled before the festival of Lughnasa was even over. He was right about Uncle Gustavo; he had been sent home by his superiors, but not because he was confused, but for reasons that became clear as the end of the summer drew steadily closer. And he was right about losing his job in the school; Father Griffin didn't take him back when the new term began. But that had more to do with Gustavo than with falling numbers. And he had good reason to be uneasy about Jo, and about Kendall too. But he could never have foreseen what would happen; that one morning in early September, he would wake up to find Jo had left, forever. And Kendall wasn't too far off._

Gustavo walked out into the garden, eyeing Katie's abandoned kites. He bent down, examining them carefully. He picked up two pieces of wood she was using to build them, and struck them together. Then he did it again, smiling. He started to beat out a structured rhythm, getting to his feet and beginning to dance slowly back and forth, little shuffling steps. His eyes on the ground, his body slightly bent over. As he danced, he muttered little words and sounds to himself, barely audible.

Logan stood there watching with wide, frightened eyes. Jo had walked into the kitchen, and was now watching at the window with Camille, while Kendall and Carlos stood by the door. They weren't sure what to make of this at all.

Then Logan hurried forward, taking the sticks from Gustavo's hands. "We'll put these back where we found them, Gustavo." He placed them carefully back on the ground, before straightening up and taking Gustavo's arm. "They don't belong to you, they belong to the child. Now let's go for that walk."

_But he was wrong about my father. I suppose their natures were so different that he would always be wrong about my father. Because he did come back in a couple of weeks, like he said he would. Though his intentions weren't what everyone thought. And I remember that evening, when my mother was inside being consoled by her brothers and sister, one Mundy brother was out in the garden under the trees, with my father. They danced without music; just there, in ritual circles back and forth. Kendall with his head thrown back, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and my father holding him at a little distance so he could regard his upturned face. No singing, no melody, no words. Only the swish of the grass across their feet._

_I watched them from behind that bush like I would watch my father with my mother, but unlike then, he was only conscious of himself and Kendall, and their dancing. I know my mother would've longed for that undivided attention, but she soon realised she would never get it._

_Though she still had hope._


	6. Chapter 6

_  
I wish I'd taken the time to get to know my family a little better. I understand that I was only seven during that summer, so I was too young to know them very well. But I wish I'd taken the time to learn what Jo's a favourite colours were, or what Kendall loved the most about summer. Or why he and Logan always fought. I never discovered the answers to most of my questions. After everything that happened, nobody was in a position to answer them. Especially not Logan himself._

The evening was quiet when Logan and Gustavo left. After Camille put Katie to bed, Jo washed her hair and then went to bed herself. Camille walked into the kitchen, where Kendall was tidying away some dishes. "Kendall, can you comb out the back of my hair for me?" she asked. "I can't reach it, and it always gets so knotted there."

"Ok. Sit down."

Camille sat by the table as Kendall took the comb from her, biting his lip as he tugged it down through her tangled curls.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry," Kendall giggled, combing a little more gently. "What do you do, crawl through hedges every other day?"

"Maybe," Camille laughed, putting a hand up and pressing down on her hair to numb the feeling of the comb. "You almost finished?"

"Yup. Just give me one second." Kendall gave it another quick comb through and handed it back to her. "There you go. All done."

"Thanks. Um . . . hey, Kendall?"

"Yes?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Camille said softly. "About James."

"Huh?" Kendall's defence immediately went up. "What about him?"

"I just want your opinion on something," Camille replied, not noticing Kendall's reaction.

"Oh. Ok." Kendall sat down next to her. "What about?"

"I don't know whether or not to tell Katie what he told me."

Kendall gave a weak laugh, wondering what on earth James had told her. "Well, of you want my advice you're going to have to tell me what he told you."

"He's going off to Spain in a few weeks, to fight with the International Brigade."

Kendall could swear he felt his heart stop for a moment. "W-what?"

"I know, I couldn't believe it either. But he told me he's going to sign up in a couple of weeks."

"Do you think he meant it?" Kendall asked weakly. "I mean, sometimes, he lies, doesn't he?" He had to appear nonchalant about this, choosing his words carefully.

"Oh yes. Thing is, sometimes I know when he's lying. Any time he's lied to me, he smiles and jokes and laughs. But he was serious this time. So I think he might have been truthful. Besides, what reason does he have to lie about that?"

"What indeed," Kendall muttered, before turning to look at Camille again. "Is he coming back before he leaves?"

"Yes, he said he would."

Of course he did. "Well, if he's still going, maybe tell her then." He faked a yawn. "I'm tired, Cam. I'm going to go o bed."

"Alright. Thanks, Kendall."

Kendall went to bed and curled up under the blanket, pulling it over his head. He stayed lying there, eyes squeezed shut. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that James had lied to him but not to Camille. He had always had an interest in these kinds of causes, always said he planned to take part one day. Kendall never thought he actually would.

But he was.

* * *

"You're here," James grinned when he saw Kendall walking towards him. He stopped, puzzled. "Where are your things—"

_SLAP!_

James squeaked in pain, hand on his burning cheek, which was already turning red. "What . . .?"

"You bastard!" Kendall snarled, shoving James backwards. "How could you? I trusted you!"

"What are you talking about, Kendall?"

"Bloody Spain, what do you think?" Kendall was raging. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? Camille told me all about your plans to sign up with the Interntional Brigade!"

"But, Kendall—" James was jut wondering how everything could've gone so wrong.

"Don't say another word, James Diamond!" Kendall snapped. He took a deep breath. "Are you able to look me in the eye and tell me it isn't true? Can you look at me and say you're it going?"

He waited. James stared at him for a moment or two, looking lost for words. Kendall folded his arms and waited. And eventually, James slowly shook his head.

Kendall felt his stomach drop. "I knew it," he whispered, feeling a tear or two slide down his cheeks. He was too angry to wipe them away. "So what were you thinking of doing? Marrying me and then leaving me behind while you ran off to another country? Is that what you were going to do?"

"I . . . Ken—"

"Don't make excuses, James!" Kendall screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I-I love you, I trusted you, and you lied to me again! Haven't you broken my heart enough times already?"

"I'm so sorry . . ." James didn't know what else to say, and Kendall seemed to be crying too hard to have heard him anyway. He inched forward slowly, holding his arms out. "Please don't cry. I hate it when you cry . . ."

"Don't touch me, you asshole!" Kendall shouted, pushing James away from him. "I don't want you near me!" He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down. But he couldn't. "I hate you," he choked, making an effort to dry his eyes at last.

James froze. Kendall didn't mean that, did he? "Ken?"

"Don't call me that, James. We're finished."

"W-what?" James felt tears building up in his eyes as he desperately reached for Kendall again. "You don't mean that, d-do you?"

"I do," Kendall relied softly, squeezing his eyes shut when he realised what he said. So close, they'd been so close . . . "I know now, James. I can't trust you. You'll never only love me. I'm never going to be the only one, and I thought I could handle that, but I can't stand it anymore . . . I'm tired of getting hurt to please other people." He let out a shaky breath, looking up at James at last. "I'm sorry. But it's better this way."

"Kendall, wait!" James tried to grab Kendall's arm, but the blonde wrenched it back and spun around, running back down towards the cottage. He didn't look back. Not even once.

Kendall snuck in through the back door, trembling from head to foot as he cried. He shut and locked the door after him, before resting his back against it and sobbing into his hands. Why did everything always go so wrong for him? What had he ever done wrong?

"Kendall?"

Kendall's head snapped up. "J-Jo . . . what are you doing up?"

"I heard you leaving," Jo replied softly, getting up from the table and walking over. She waited until she was in front of him before asking, "Why are you so upset?"

"I-it's nothing, Jo," Kendall whispered, trying to stop the tears falling down his face.

"Was it James Diamond?"

Kendall's eyes widened. "I . . . what are you talking about? Th-there's nothing between James and I, there never has been . . ."

"Kendall, you know that I'm the closest to you. You can't hide things from me." Jo rested a hand on his cheek, wiping his tears away. "Why do you think I hate him so much?"

Kendall gave a weak smile. "I love you, Jo."

"I love you too," Jo smiled, pulling Kendall in for a hug.

Maybe Kendall didn't need James. Family was all he needed.

At least, he hoped.

_There were of course these times when I suddenly began to think that Jo may not have been as simple as everyone thought. I didn't have many memories to go on, but I'm sure she was smarter and not as out of it as she let on. I'm sure Kendall knew; they were the closest, after all. It was probably easier to pretend you understood nothing then to reveal that sometimes you knew all too well what was going on. But I can never be sure. I barely knew her._


	7. Chapter 7

_  
There were other things Carlos and I had in common besides the fact that we both grew up as love children, shunned by our neighbours. We both have this habit of acting like nothing is wrong when it very clearly is. It's something I've been doing most of my life, and something he did too. The main reason for all his jokes and laughter was simply so he could act like nothing was ever wrong. Of course, that afternoon of Logan's breakdown, for once Carlos had to pull through. When it came to actions he was no fool about what was wrong. But in the long run, he was almost delusional._

**_—Three weeks later—_ **

Carlos walked into the cottage kitchen, humming to himself. He poured his bucket of water into the big pot on the range. Then he glanced at Katie, who was siting at the table, writing something intently.

"Are you getting your books ready for school?" Carlos asked with a smile.

Katie rolled her eyes. "School doesn't start for another ten days!"

Carlos sighed, walking over to her. "God, I always hated school." He started humming again, but stopped, remembering something. "Hold on, girl! You and I have a financial matter to discuss!"

"I'm not listening!"

"You owe me money!" Carlos grinned.

"I do not!"

"Oh, yes you do." Carlos smirked. "Three weeks ago I bet you a penny those kites would never leave the ground. And they never did!"

"That's because there was never enough wind!" Katie replied quickly, staring at her paper.

"Enough wind!" Carlos chuckled. "Oh honey, a hurricane wouldn't shift those things!" He ruffled Katie's hair affectionately.

"Now look what you made me do, the page is all blotted!" Katie glared up at Carlos. "Leave me alone, will you! I'm trying to write a letter!"

"Who to?" Carlos tried to look at the letter. "Whoever it is, they'd have to be smart to read that scrawl."

"It's to Santa."

"To Santa Claus, in September! Well,there's nothing like getting in before the rush! What are you asking for?"

"A bell."

Carlos frowned. "A bell?"

"For my bicycle!"

"What bicycle?" Carlos asked.

"The bike my daddy bought me, stupid!"

"He bought you a bike?"

"Yes, he told me today. He bought it in Kilkenny. So there!"

Carlos bit his lip, smile falling. "Your daddy told you that? Well . . . aren't you a lucky girl?"

"He promised me, it's going to be delivered to the house."

"Well, if he promised you . . ." Carlos took a deep breath. "So, who's going to teach you how to ride?"

"I know how to ride, I learned at school! But you can't ride!"

"Oh yes I can, Katie." Carlos gave a sigh. "Now, away off and write to Santa Claus some other day! On days like this you should be running about the fields like a young calf."

Katie gave an angry sigh and got to her feet, striding towards the door. "I'm not a young calf!" Ktie said angrily. "I'm Katie! Katie Diamond!" And with that, she ran out the door.

Carlos stared after her, mouth open. Damn, this wasn't good.

Suddenly Gustavo walked into the kitchen. Carlos couldn't help smiling at how changed he was; there was a definite spring in his step, and he looked so much stronger and happier.

"Did I hear the church bell ringing?" Gustavo asked with a smile.

"Oh yes! There's some big posh wedding on today!"

"Not one of my brothers or sisters?"

"No such luck," Carlos chuckled. "A woman called Peggy Morgan and a man from Carrickfad."

"Peggy Morgan . . . should I know that name?"

"I don't think so. Her family own the arcade in town. You know, you're looking stronger every day."

"I feel stronger. Now, I'm off for my last walk of the day?"

"Number three?"

"Number four; down past the clothes line, aross the stream, around the old well and up through the meadow. And then Logan won't have to nag at me!" He chuckled to himself.

Logan walked in with a handful of clothes. "Did I hear my name?" He put the clothes down. "Time for another walk, Gustavo."

"I'm just about to set off, Logan!" Gustavo replied with a big smile.

"Any sign of Kendall and Jo yet?" Logan asked Carlos.

"They said they'd be back for tea." He turned to Gustavo. "They're picking bilberries, to make jam. You used to pick them, do you remember? Down beside the old quarry."

"Oh yes! Mother and myself, every Lughnasa. And then she would make the most wonderful jam. And that's what you all took to school with you during winter; some soda bread and bilberry jam. I must walk to the quarry one of these days." He grinned. "You see, Logan? It's all coming back to me!"

"So you'll soon start saying Mass again?"

"Yes, of course."

"Here in the house?" Carlos asked.

"Why not? Maybe next Monday. Would the neighbours join us?"

"Oh, of course! A lot of them have been asking me already."

"How will we let them know?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Carlos chuckled. "Word travels quickly around here."

"Hmm. What Obdul does—you know, my houseboy, and my friend, and my counsellor—he strikes a huge iron gong. Did you hear the church bell this morning, Logan?"

A few seconds passed before Logan quietly nodded.

"Obdul's gong would travel four times as far. When we had a church we would meet there, but now we just gather in the common in the middle f the village. If it's an important ceremony you could have maybe three or four hundred people there."

"Really?" Logan looked surprised. "All gathered together for Mass?"

"Hmm, maybe." Gustsvo looked thoughtful. "Or make to offer a sacrifice to Obi, our gret Goddess of the Earth. Or maybe to thank the spirits of our tribe . . .

"But these aren't Christian ceremonies, are they?" Logan asked slowly.

"Oh, no. The Ryangans are true to their own beliefs. The ceremony begins with a sacrifice of a fowl or young goat down by the river. Then there's an incantation . . . it's a truly wonderful ceremony." He paused, walking towards the door. "I must go for my walk now."

"Gustavo?"

Gustavo turned back to look at Logan. "Yes?"

"You will begin says Mass again?"

"We've arranged for next Monday, haven't we? The moment Jo's white rooster crows. You'll have to find an iron gong somewhere, Logan."

As soon as he was out of the house, Logan grabbed Carlos's arm tightly. "I told you!" he hissed. "You ouldn't believe me—"

"Shh."

"What do you think?"

"He's not even back a month yet," Carlos said reasonsbly. "He needs more time."

"When I mentioned Mass to him, you saw how he dodged about!"

"He said he'd say Mass next Monday, Logan."

"He won't. You know he won't. He's changed, Carlos."

"In another month he'll be—"

"Completely changed! And it's what he's changed into that frightens me."

"It doesn't frighten me," Carlos shrugged.

"If you saw your face . . . of course it does. Oh dear God . . ."

Carlos sighed. "All the same, Logie, I don't think it's a sight I'd like to see."

"What sight?"

"A clatter of lepers doing the military two-step!" Carlos laughed.

"Oh, God forgive you, Carlos Mundy! The poor creatures are entitled to—" Logan stopped. He definitely heard a laugh out in the garden. He lowered his voice. "This must be kept in the family, Carlos! Not a word outside these walls, am I clear? Not a syllable!"

Outside, James and Camille were walking up the lane. As they did, Camille reached out to take James' hand, only to have him casually switch his walking stick to that hand and look away from her.

"Tell me about the signing up, James," Camille piped up. "Was it really in a church?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes! At the end there were three men . . . two of them in trench coats, and this chap on the middle with an accent I could harly understand. Naturally, I thought he was Spanish. But he was frm Armagh, as it turned out . . ."

"It's a wonder he accepted you!" Camille paused. "And you leave on Saturday?"

"First tide. I'm a dispatch rider, with my motorbike. Should be interesting!"

"How long will you be away?"

"Oh." James waved a hand vaguely. "A couple of months, maybe. Everybody says it will be over by Christmas."

"They always say it'll be over by Christmas. I still don't know why you're going."

"Not sure I know either," James sighed, staring up at the cottage. "But there's bound to be something right about the cause, isn't there? And it's somewhere to go, at least." He took a deep breath and smiled. "Let's go down the old well."

"No, can you come in and take a look at the radio? It stops and starts whenever it feels like it."

"I told you, I know nothing about radios," James protested as Camille took his arm and led him towards the door.

"I've said you're a genius at them!"

"But I don't even know how to—"

"You can try, can't you? Come on, Katie misses it badly," Camille pleaded. She dragged him inside before he could say another word.

"Camille says you're great with radios, James," Carlos said as a way of greeting.

"Oh, I suppose I could take a look at it . . ." James mumbled awkwardly.

"Well I can tell you it's not the battery. We got a new one yesterday."

"Well, let me check the aerial first," James shrugged. "Very often that's where the trouble lies." He ran off out the back door.

"It might be something he can't fix," Camille pointed out as she sat down.

"Camille," Logan began. "I know you're not responsible for James's choices, but it would be on my conscience of I didn't tell you how much I disapprove of this International Brigade caper. It's a sorry day when we send young men off to Spain to fight for godless communism."

"For democracy, Logan," Camille corrected.

"I'm not going to argue. I just wanted to clear my conscience."

"Well, that's the important thing," Camille replied without smiling. "And now you've cleared it."

"Turn on the radio, will you?" They heard James call from outside.

"It's on!" Carlos called back.

"Of course . . ."

Camille sighed. "Just as we were coming out of town we ran into Kelly Wainwright, the knitting agent." She paused, voice lowering. "Kendall and Jo aren't back yet?"

"They'll be here soon," Carlos replied, unsure what this was about.

"She says she'll call tomorrow and tell them herself. The poor woman was very distressed."

"Tell them what?" Logan asked worriedly.

"She's not buying any more of their gloves."

"Why not?"

"She says they're too dear."

"Too dear!" Logan exclaimed. "She pays them a pittance!"

"A new factory opened up in Donegal town," Camille went on sadly. "They make machine gloves more quickly and efficiently there. The people Kelly used to supply buy their gloves there now."

"That's terrible news," Carlos said softly.

"She says they're organising buses to bring the workers to and from the factory every day. Most of the people who used to work at home have signed up. She tried to get a job there herself but they told her she was too old. She's forty-one! The poor woman could hardly speak."

"Poor Kendall," Carlos wailed. "Poor Jo! What'll they do?"

Suddenly they heard humming from outside, and Logan hurried over to see Kendall walking into the garden. "Shh. They're back. Let them have their tea on peace. We'll tell them later."

_Logan and Kendall did argue a lot, of course they did. And Logan told Jo off constantly. But it was because he was protective of them, of both of them. There were some old childhood stories Logan or Carlos or my mother told me as I got older, and together they indicated Logan had always acted as the protector of his two youngest siblings. Because he saw them as vulnerable, almost lesser beings. He didn't do it on purpose, it was just the way he was. And sometimes that protective instinct turned into he and Kendall clashing like cats and dogs, or that tone he used as he gave Jo yet anther lecture._

_But he always meant well._


	8. Chapter 8

_  
The amount of times I wondered about my parents' relationship is far too many to count. Sometimes I truly wondered why my father hardly came to visit us, and why my mother was so crazy for him when he was gone, but when he was there she seemed nonchalant about everything. It was probably an image she kept up so she didn't seem too desperate, but I can never be sure. And I think more than nothing I wondered who I took after. Was I going to grow up into that wild and free spirit that my father was, devoted to no one? Or would I be like my mother? Of course I began to find out as I grew up, and stopping it was inevitable for the very beginning._

Kendall remembered that day like it was yesterday.

He remembered James's crestfallen and ashamed expression. He remembered how the older man had tried to hold him close, and how he'd pushed him away simply because he was trying to grasp what James was saying to him.

_"Kendall." James was shaking. "I'm so, so sorry . . ."_

_"She's my sister, James," was all Kendall could get out. "My older sister."_

_"I didn't know . . ."_

_"Does she expect to see you again?"_

_"Do you want her to?"_

_"No. Not at all." Kendall managed a tiny smile. "You're mine."_

_"And you're mine," James whispered back. But he had tears in his eyes. "I'm such an idiot . . ."_

_"No, no you're not. She can be very persuasive. I mean, when we were kids—"_

_"She's pregnant, Kendall."_

_Kendall gasped, stopping. Of course, it was a possibility . . . but he hadn't wanted to accept it could be true . . . "How do you know?"_

_"She told me yesterday," James choked. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for it to happen . . . please forgive me . . ."_

_"I do." Kendall took a deep breath. He didn't want to say this. But he had to. "But—"_

_"Oh God, not the but."_

_Kendall didn't smile. "She's going to want dedication from you. And you have to give it to her."_

_"What?" James looked devastated. "You don't want to see me anymore?"_

_"I do, James. But Camille has a baby on the way. Your baby. She needs you.. They both do. You need to focus on her." Kendall sighed. "I don't want to say goodbye to you. But it's better this way."_

_"I'm not going to give up on you."_

_"I still want to see you James. Sometimes. But like I said . . . Camille is your priority now. Alright?"_

Kendall sighed, leaving the buckets of bilberries outside the door of the cottage. He was just about to go inside when he heard a voice calling.

"Who might that beautiful young creature be?"

His head snapped up, looking around. "James?" he called, looking around in confusion.

"Up here, Kendall! On top of the sycamore!"

Kendall turned and looked up—and shrieked. "Mother of God!" Any anger he felt towards James had vanished; now he was just worried.

"Come up and join me!" James called with a grin.

"What are you doing up there?"

"You can see the future from here, Kendall!"

"James, that tree isn't safe!" Kendall replied shakily. "Please come down!"

"Come up and see what's going to happen to you!"

"That branch is dead! I'm telling you!"

The branch began to sway. "Do you think I could get a job in the circus?" James laughed. "Woohoo!"

"James!"

"He flies through the air with the greatest of ease!" James sang. "Wheeee!"

"Stop it, James! Stop it!" Kendall yelled, wishing he could tear his eyes away.

"That daring young man on the flying trapeze!"

"You're going to fall!" Kendall turned away, hurrying toward the door. "I'm not watching!" He ran into the kitchen. "Camille, that clown of a man is on top of the sycamore! Go tell him to come down!"

"He's fixing the aerial," Camille replied.

"He's going to break his neck!" Kendall persisted.

"As long as he fixes the wireless first," Carlos chuckled.

"How are the bilberries?" Logan asked.

Kendall sighed. "Just a little too ripe. We should've picked them a week ago."

Camille stood up, walking over to Kendall with a frown. "Is that a purple stain on your gansey?"

Kendall sighed. "I know. I'd only begun when I fell into a bush! And look at my hands, all scraped with briars." He giggled. "Jo nearly died laughing at me." He paused, looking up with a smile. "How is she now? She still in bed?"

"Bed?"Camille echoed, looking puzzled.

"She wasn't feeling well. She left me and came home to lie down," Kendall replied slowly. "She's here, ins't she?"

Carlos got up and ran off towards the bedrooms. "I haven't seen her," Logan said worriedly, standing up next to Camille. "When did she leave you?"

"Oh, hours ago, I don't know—just after we got to the old quarry," Kendall replied quickly. "She said she felt out of sorts."

"And she came home by herself?" Camille asked incredulously.

"That's what she said."

Carlos ran back into the kitchen. "She's not in bed!"

"Oh God! Where could she—"

"Start at the beginning, Kendall!" Logan interrupted. "What exactly happened?"

"Nothing happened, nothing at all!" Kendall replied quickly, looking frightened of Logan. "We left here—um, just after one o'clock—"

"That means she's been missing for over three hours!" Camille shrieked.

"We walked together to the quarry, and just after we got there she said she felt unwell. I told her to leave the bilberries and just sit in the sun, and that's what she did."

"For how long?" Logan asked.

"I don't know—five or ten minutes. Then I fell into the bush, and then she said . . . um, she said . . ."

"Go on, go on!" Logan said impatiently.

"She said something about a headache and a sick stomach, and that she would come home to lie down!" He turned to Carlos desperately. "Are you sure she's not in bed?"

Carlos shook his head slowly.

"Then what?" Logan demanded.

Kendall burst into tears. "Where is she?" he wept. "What's happened to her?"

"What direction did she go in after she left you?"

"Direction?"

"Stop snivelling, Kendall!" Logan shouted, catching everyone off guard. "Did she go towards home?"

"I think so . . . I don't know . . ." Kendall turned to Carlos with pleading eyes.

"She might have gone into town," Carlos told Logan.

"She wouldn't go into town in her wellingtons, though," Camille replied.

"No, she was wearing her good shoes!" Kendall squeaked, having just remembered.

"Are you sure?" Logan asked.

"Yes, and her blue cardigan and good skirt. I said to her 'You're some lady to pick berries with, aren't you?'" Kendall sniffled mournfully at the end of the sentence, wiping his eyes wth his sleeve.

"Did she have a bottle of milk with her?" Carlos asked suddenly.

"I, I think so," Kendall replied slowly.

"Any money?"

"Half-a-crown." Kendall stopped, frowning. "That's all she has."

Carlos shut his eyes. "Jett Stetson," he said softly.

"What? Who?" Logan looked totally lost.

"Jett Stetson," Carlos repeated. "Up the back hills."

"Oh God, no!" Camille groaned.

"What's this? What about the back hills?" Logan asked, frowning in bewilderment.

"She has some silly notion about that scamp, Stetson," Camille explained. "She believes he's in love with her, she says he gave her a present last Christmas."

Logan turned on Kendall immediately, eyes flaring. "What do you know about this Stetson business?"

"I know no more than Camille has—"

"I've often seen you and Jo whispering together!" Logan grabbed Kendall's shoulders. "What plot has been hatched between Jo and Jett?"

"N-no plot," Kendall stuttered as another tear fell down his cheek, struggling feebly. "Please, Logan—"

"You're lying to me, Kendall!" Logan yelled, shaking poor Kendall in his anger. "You're withholding, I want the truth!"

"Honest to God," Kendall sobbed, looking terrified. "All I know is what Camlle—"

"I want to know everything you know!" Logan yelled. "NOW!"

"That'll do, Logan!" Carlos said firmly, pulling him off Kendall. "Stop that at once."

Logan glared while Carlos gave Kendall a hug, whispering little words of comfort in his ear. Then Carlos turned back to look at him. "She might be in town. She might even be on her way home now. We're going to find her." He turned to Camille. "You search the fields on the upper side of the lane." He looked at Kendall. "You take the lower side as far as the main road." He turned to Logan. "You go to the old well and search all around there. I'm going into town to tell the police."

"You're going to no police, Carlos!" Logan argued. "If she's mixed with that Stetson creature I'll not have it broadcasted all over—"

"I'll go to the police, and you'll do what I told you to do," Carlos snapped.

Suddenly Camille shrieked, pointing at the front window. "There she is, I just saw her!"

Kendall hurried over to look out the back door. Jo was walking over, dressed in her good clothes. She looked dazed, but happy. She held a single red rose in her hands, twirling it happily. Then she stopped by the buckets of berries, bending down and taking a handful. She stuffed them into her mouth, wiping her mouth with her cardigan sleeve as she swallowed them. Kendall ran out to meet her. He was about to hug her, but then quickly stopped and took her arm gently instead. "Jo, we were starting to worry about you!"

"They're nice, Kendall," Jo replied dreamily as Kendall led her inside. "They're sweet. And you got two bucketfuls? Good for you!"

"Is your stomach settled?" Kendall asked carefully. "You left me and said you were coming home to lie down. Remember?"

"Oh, yes. I'm fine now, thanks."

"But you didn't come home, Jo," Camille piped up, standing next to her.

"That's right."

"And we were very worried about you," Kendall told her, the way a parent would explain to a toddler.

"Well, I'm here now," Jo replied, beaming.

"Were you in the town?" Camille asked suddenly. "It's why you're all dressed up. You went into Ballybeg, didn't you?"

Jo stared at her, then turned to look at Kendall. None of them said anything.

"She's home safe and sound and that's all that matters!" Carlos said quickly, walking towards the kitchen table and becoming for Camille to follow. "Now I don't kow about you four, but this chicken is weak with hunger. So what's on the menu this evening is a choice between caraway-seed bread and soda bred, fresh from the chef's oven." He grinned when Camille laughed at his comment. "Beverage is the usual hot, sweet tea. Now the difficulty is that there are only three eggs between the seven of us." He sighed tragically.

"There are eight of us," Kendall told him in a small voice, immediately wishing he hadn't when all eyes fell on him.

"How—oh, of course! The dashing solider up the sycamore!" Carlos rolled his eyes. "So, how does scrambled eggs and caraway-seed bread sound?"

"Excellent, Carlos!" Camille grinned. "It's settled!"

"We can pick some more bilberries next Sunday, Jo," Kendall suggested.

"Alright," Jo shrugged. She looked around. "Does anone know where my overall is?"

"Lying across your bed," Carlos replied. "And you need to bring some turf in, Jo."

"I'll change first."

"Well, be quick about it."

"How many pieces of toast do you want?" Camille asked Carlos.

"Oh, all that loaf. But go easy on the butter, it's all we have. Now, some basil and parsley!" Carlos smiled widely. "Don't get too optimistic, but just so you know I feel very creative this evening!"

Jo headed off towards her room. But Logan, who had been silent since she walked in, finally spoke up. "I want to kow where you've been, Jo."

Everyone stopped what they were doing. Jo turned to look at Logan.

"You've been gone all afternoon," Logan continued, walking over to her. "I want you to tell me where you've been."

"Logan, later—"

"Shut up, Kendall!" Logan snapped, before turning back to Jo. "Where have you been for the past thee hours?"

"Lough Anna," Jo replied defiantly.

Logan sighed. "You walked from the quarry to Lough Anna? Did you meet somebody there?"

"Yep."

"Had you arranged to meet somebody there?"

"I arranged to meet Jett Stetson there, Logan," Jo smiled. "He brought me out in his father's blue boat. I don't want anything to eat, Carlos. I brought a bottle of milk and a packet of chocolate biscuits with me and we had a picnic on

the lake. Then we went up through the back hills and he showed me what was left of the Lughnasa passed young Sweeney's house - you know, the boy you said was dying, Logan. Well, he's on the mend, Jett says. His legs will be scarred but he'll be all right." She gave a dreamy sigh. "It's a very peaceful place up there. There was nobody there but Jett and me. He calls me his rosebud, Kendall. I told you that before, didn't I? Then later on he walked me to the workhouse gate and I came home by myself." She smiled smugly at her brothers and sister. "And that's all I'm going to tell you. That's all any of ye are going to hear." She walked off, humming to herself.

Logan's head was in his hands as he slumped down into a chair. "What's happened to this house? Mother of God, will we ever be able to lift our heads again . . .?"

_The following night Kelly Wainwright arrived, and explained to Kendall and Jo why she couldn't buy their hand-knitted gloves anymore. Most of her home knitters were already working in the new factory and she advised them to apply immediately. The Industrial Revolution had finally caught up with Ballybeg. They didn't apply, even though they had no other means of making a living. And they never discussed the situation with their family. Maybe Kendall made the decision for both of them. Even though he had James to run off with and therefore a backup plan for his life, I still think he had Jo's best interests at heart. He probably knew Jo would never get work there. Then of course, there was the possibility that they both just wanted . . . away. Clearly Jo did, at least._

_On my first day back at school, when we came into the kitchen for breakfast, we found a note propped up against the milk jug: 'I'm gone for good. This is what's best. I'm happy, do not try to find me.' It was written in Jo's messy and barely legible scrawl. And when we went down to the town, we discovered Jett Stetson was missing too. Of course, we did try to find them. So did the police, and so did our neighbours, who had a wide range of relatives across England and America. But they had vanished without trace. And by the time I tracked Jo down twenty years later in London, she was dying in that hospice for the destitute in Southwark._

There was silence, before Camille forced a smile on her face and said, "Well, at least that's good news. That the young Sweeney boy is going to live." She walked over to the back door, opening it and calling. "Katie, where are you? We need some turf brought in!" She walked outside and looked up at James. "You're still up there, I see!"

"Don't stand there, I might fall on top of you!" James chuckled.

"Have you any idea what you're doing?" When he just laughed, she shook her head and sighed. "If you fall and break your neck it'll be too good for you." And back inside she went. "Nobody can vanish quicker than that Katie when you need her."

Carlos turned to Kendall with a grin. "I had a brilliant idea when I woke up this morning, Kendall. I thought to myself: what is it that Ballybeg badly needs and that Ballybeg hasn't got?"

"A riddle," Kendall sighed. "I give up."

"A dressmaker!"

"What?" Kendall scoffed. "Me?"

"I know it sounds odd, but think about it! You and Jo who have such clever hands—"

"Clever hands!"

"Why don't you consider it? You'd get a pile of work, they'd come for you from far and wide, you'd make a fortune!"

"Some fortune in Ballybeg."

"And not only would the work be interesting," Carlos continued optimistically. "But you wouldn't be ruining your eyes staring at wool eight hours a day. I'm telling you, Kendall; could be just the thing for you and Jo." He stuck a hand in his pocket and fumbled around, eyes widening. "Oh dear God, don't tell me I'm out of fags! How could this have happened to me?"

Suddenly Gustavo bounced in, smiling as usual. "Maybe I should go to Ryanga with you after all, Gustavo," Carlos sighed.

"I know you won't, but you would love it," Gustavo replied.

"Could you guarantee a woman for each of us?" Carlos asked curiously. "And, well, a man for Camille and Jo." He turned to glance at Kendall as he said it. But when Kendall only blushed and looked away, he added, "Though, maybe Kendall should keep Camille company. I know it'd be awful left on your own. Good for Jo too."

Kendall's eyes widened. So did Logan's as he turned to stare at his brother. "Kendall?"

"Well, there wouldn't be a problem for Carlos and Logan," Gustavo replied quickly. "But I couldn't promise a man each for Camille and Kendall and Jp, if that's what you're recommending. But maybe a husband for all of you!"

"One between the three of us?" Camille asked, looking puzzled. "How does that work?"

"Well, it's our system!" Gustavo beamed. He didn't seem to notice that Logan was still staring at Kendall, eyes burning, and Kendall had his eyes on the floor, arms folded and cheeks bright red. "One of you would be his principal wife and live with him in the largest hut—"

"I guess that'd be you, Camille!" Carlos chuckled. "You are the oldest, after all."

"Stop that, Carlos!" Logan sighed, distracted for a moment.

"And the other two would be kept in his enclosure, it'd be like living on a small farm," Gustavo added.

"And what sort of duties would we have?" Camille asked.

"Oh, the usual; cooking, sewing, helping with the crops, looking after children—"

"Sure, that's what we do anyway!" Camille laughed.

"Yes, what's so efficient about the system is that the husband and his wives and the children make up a small commune where everybody helps and takes care of each other," Guatsvo replied enthusiastically. "I'm very in favor of it!"

"That might be, Gustvo," Logan snapped. "But I don't think it's what Pope Pius XI considers the holy sacrament of matrimony. It might be better if you paid more attention to our Holy Father and a bit less to the Great Goddess . . ." He stopped, turning to look at Kendall. "I want to speak with you later."

Kendall's frightened eyes met Logan's for a second. But then Logan smiled sweetly at him. Carlos, Camille and Gustvo watched as Kendall dived forward and gave Logan a hug, face buried in the older man's shoulder. It was a rare but wonderful sight to see.

Suddenly the music of 'Anything goes' began to play softly from the radio.

"Listen!" Camile piped up, grinning. "James has it going!"

"You know, you would love the climate in Ryanga, Logan," Gustavo chuckled.

"I'm not listening to a word you're saying!" Logan replied snootily, still hugging Kendall tightly.

_What scraps of information I gathered about Jo's life were too sparse to make all that much sense togather. They moves about a lot. Jett lost his new job pretty quickly, and about a year after they ran off together, he died of exposure, leaving Jo pregnant with his chld and living out on the streets. A whole ten years before I found Jo, I found her son in an orphanage in the south of London. He was ten when I found him, and though the orphanage didn't give me any help finding Jo, I took her son in and looked after him myself. He was family, after all. When Jo left him there, she requested they name him Kendall, because he was 'the one always there for her'. And it turned out at that time it fit quite well._   
  



	9. Chapter 9

_  
Gustavo's health improved quickly and he soon recovered all his old bounce. But he didn't say Mass that Monday. In fact, he never said Mass again. And the neighbours stopped asking about him, and his name never again appeared in the Donegal Enquirer. And of course, there was never a public welcome with bands and flags and speeches. But he never lost his determination to return to Ryanga and he still talked passionately about his life with the lepers there. And each new revelation startled and stunned poor Logan. Until finally he found a phrase that appeased him: 'Gustavo's own distinctive spiritual search'. 'Leaping around a fire and offering a little hen to Uka or Ito or whoever is not religion as I was taught it and indeed know it,' he would say with a defiant toss of his head._

_Two years after his homecoming, on the very eve of La Lughnasa, Gustavo died suddenly of a heart attack. My family mourned him, of course. But things only got worse._

James ran into the kitchen. "Well? Any good?"

"Listen," Camille beamed.

James did, and grinned. "Aha! Leave it to the expert!"

"Good work, James," Carlos grinned, patting him on the shoulder.

"Thought it might be the areial. That's the end of your troubles." He stopped, walking back and forth a little as he hummed along with the song. "Dance with me, Kendall."

Logan clapped a hand over his mouth.

Camille and Carlos stared. Did James kow?

"Have a bit of sense, James Diamond!" Kendall replied quickly, shaking his head.

"Dance with me, please," James pleaded. "Come on."

"Dance with him, Kendall!" Carlos grinned, pulling Kendall forward.

"In olden days a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking," James sang, holding out his hand. "Give me your hand."

"Go on, Kendall!" Carlos encouraged him.

"Who wants to dance at this time of—"

Kendall's final protest was cut off when James pulled him forward and took him in his arms. "Good authors too who once knew better words," James sang, spinning Kendall around. With style and easy elegance James danced Kendall around the kitchen and out into the garden, singing as he did.

"You're a great dancer, Kendall," he said softly.

"No, I'm not."

James chuckled, singing again."If driving fast cars you like, if low bars you like, if old hymns you like, if bare limbs you like, if Mae West you like, or me undressed you like . . ."

Kendall giggled, resting his head on James's shoulder.

"When every night, the set that's smart is intruding in nudist parties in studios, anything goes," James sang, before falling into silence again. "You should be a professional dancer, Kendall."

"Too late for that."

"You should teach dancing in Ballybeg."

"That's all they need!" Kendall scoffed.

"Maybe it is." James leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Kendall's forehead. Kendall's cheeks turned pink.

"I'm not going to Spain."

Kendall's eyes widened. "W-what?"

"I didn't sign up to go fight. I'm staying here. With you."

"Penny . . ."

"I left Penny. A week after I left here, I filed for divorce. It was a little messy but it didn't take too long. Kendall, I swear I'm not leaving this house without telling the others how I feel about you."

"But, James—"

"I'm telling the truth, Kendall. D you really think I would come back here and tell you this if I wasn't? I'm not heartless, Kendall. And you know it."

And Kendall did know it. He bit his lip. "What if I say no?"

"Well then, every couple of weeks, I'm gonna come back here. I'm gonna propose to you every single time without fail. And in between those visits I'll sit in my new home and think about how much I love you."

Kendall's cheeks were bright red. "Do you mean that?"

"Like I said, I wouldn't have come back here if I didn't. I wouldn't hurt you like that again." Kendall was shocked to see that James had tears in his eyes. "The way you looked at me that night . . . I swear I'll never forgive myself. Ad if I ever have to see you look at me like that again . . ."

"I want to marry you, James."

James stopped, smiling with wide eyes.

"I really do love you, James," Kendall said softly. "But I'm scared . . ."

"I know you are, love." James pulled Kendall closer. "But this time, it'll be different."

Kendall wasn't sure whether or not he believed James. But hey, what did he really have lose this time? "Ok."

James grinned, moving one up to cup Kendall's cheek, pulling him in for a kiss. Kendall smiled, threading his fingers through James's hair. The kiss meant everything to them; it meant a fresh start, where hopefully this time, there would be no lies.

_Only a couple of weeks after Jo left, Kendall and James had their quiet wedding ceremony in Donegal town; Ballybeg wasn't the place for them. And after that they went to England to look for Jo. But they didn't come back. I think it was partly to see if there was any chance of finding Jo there. And it was partly, as Logan thought, because they simply wanted their own life together, away from Ballybeg and all its troubles. What we heard of them in Kendall's regular letters was that they had found a little home in Wales and were living there together happily. Kendall was working in the village nearby and James was still working on selling those gramophones. They seemed so happy together. But unfortunately, it didn't all go as planned._

_Our family received a letter from Kendall every couple of weeks, and maybe once or twice a year they would come and visit, spend a day or two in the cottage and then go home to Wales again. But then three years after their marriage, two months passed without a word from Kendall. My family were all beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong. Or if he didn't want to speak to them anymore since Gustavo had died. But then one afternoon they received a letter from Kendall and James's address. But it was from James, and not Kendall. It wasn't very long, but it told them plenty._

_There had been an accident; a crash, with James's motorbike. Something about another car, I don't remember the details very well. Kendall and James were both thrown from the bike onto the road. Kendall hit his head and died on impact, and while James's wound wasn't disabling, he walked with a limp for the rest of his life. It put an end to his dancing days, and that distressed him almost as much as losing Kendall. In every one of James's visits, he apologised to my mother and promised me a new bike. But after Kendall died, he stopped coming altogether. The last time I saw him was when I was ten, and watching him dancing down the lane towards the bike in an imitation on Fred Astaire, with one arm around Kendall and the other twirling his walking stick. When they got to the main road, James turned around and with both hands blew a dozen theatrical kisses to Mother and me, before turning and wrapping an arm around Kendall's waist as the blonde pulled him in for a kiss._

Camille watched from the kitchen window, eyes burning with hatred. She wished she knew what they were saying. But all she knew was that James had just kissed Kendall.

And Kendall kissed back.

She quickly stepped back from the window as James spun Kendall back through the door and guided him into the kitchen. "There you are," he grinned. "Safe and sound."

"I wish I could dance like you, Kendall," Carlos sighed wistfully.

"I haven't a breath," Kendall giggled, cheeks pink.

"Doesn't he dance elegantly?" James smiled at Camille, who just glared.

"Always did, our Kendall," Carlos chuckled, wrapping an arm around the blonde's shoulders.

"Alright, who's next?" James chuckled. "You, Camille?"

"Not now. I wonder where Katie's got to . . ."

"I'll dance with you, James!" Carlos laughed. "Do you want to see real class?"

"Certainly do, Carlos!" James smirked, as he and Carlos began spinning wildly around the room, laughing loudly. James winked at Kendall as he passed him, while Carlos smirked at him playfully. "In olden days a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking!" they sang loudly. "But now God knows—"

Camille strode over and turned the radio off. I'm sick of that damned thing!"

"What are you doing, Camille?" Logan asked.

"We're wasting the battery and won't be getting another until the weekend," Camille snapped.

"Well, at least we have peace now!" Logan sighed in relief. "Do you know what that thing has done? Killed all Christian conversation in this country."

Camille turned to Kendall, smiling nastily. "Kelly Wainwright's calling up tomorrow. She wants to talk to you and Jo."

"What about?" Kendall asked innocently.

Camille was about to speak when Logan leaped forward. "I didn't tell you, did I?" he said quickly, glaring at Camille before turning to smile at Kendall. "Her niece just got engaged! Jennifer McLaughlin!"

"Is she not still at school?" Carlos asked, frowning.

"She left last year. She's fifteen and the lucky man is sixteen! You can't tell me that's not improper! It's the poor mother I feel sorry for."

"What does she want to talk to us about?" Kendall asked Camille.

Camille bit her lip. She wanted to say it, she really did. "Oh, just something about wool. Didn't sound important, she probably won't call at all." But she wasn't totally heartless.

"Are we never going to eat, Carlos?" Logan asked impatiently. "I'm starving."

"Indeed we are—out in the garden! Lughnasa's almost over, chums. There won't be many warm evenings left."

"Good idea, Carlos!" Kendall beamed, heading towards the dresser. "I'll get the cups and plates."

"I think the radio is gone again," Camille sighed mournfully, twisting the knob. "I switched it on again—that's all I dd."

"Take out a couple of chairs, James," Carlos instructed.

"What about the table?"

"Oh, we can spread a cloth on the ground."

"At least we know it's not the areial," James said reassuringly to Camille. He chuckled. "Next we can check the ignition—"

"Ignition!" Camille sighed. "Listen to that bluffer!"

"Bluffer? I'm so offended!" James turned to Kendall as he passed. "Did you hear what she called me? That's unfair, isn't it?"

Kendall smiled and shrugged, blushing as he left the kitchen.

_Some time in the mid-fifties, I got a letter from London; a curt note from a man my age named Tyler Lane, who said that he'd been known as Tyler Diamond until his parents divorced when he was only seven years old. He had found my name and address among my father's things. He was my half-brother, and told me that James had died peacefully in his home the previous week. He'd been nursed in Tyler's home for the past few years, having fallen into a depression, unwilling to find a way of living. Tyler wanted to know who Kendall was, who that name James had kept whispering in his restless sleep belonged to. So I told him all about us. Needless to say I got no reply. I didn't expect to. My mother never knew of that letter. I decided to tell her—then decided not to—wavered between the two options for years just as my father would've done; and eventually, rightly or wrongly, kept the information to myself._

They walked out into the garden, settling down. Logan and Carlos sat down on the cloth spread over the grass, while James, Kendall and Camille sat on the garden seat, James awkwardly in the middle. Then suddenly they turned to see Jo coming around from the back of the house. She was holding the dead white rooster in her hand, dangling it by its feet. The feathers were ruffled sand bloodstained.

Kendall was the first to see her and got up, walking to her. "Jo, what is it?"

"My rooster's dead," Jo replied softly.

"Oh, Jo . . ."

"The fox must have got him."

"Oh, poor Jo." Kendall gave her a one-armed hug.

"Carlos warned me the fox was about again. That's the end of my pet rooster. You were right, Carlos."

"Did he get at my hens?" Carlos asked quickly. "Was the door left open?"

"I don't think so. They're safe."

"We'll get you another rooster, Jo," Kendall said with a smile.

"It doesn't matter. I don't want another." Jo set the rooster down in the middle of the cloth, to the disgust of the others. But they said nothing. She sat down next to it, stroking its feathered head dazedly.

"Where's Katie got to?" Camille sighed and called out, "Katie! She hears me rightly, you know. I bet she's watching us from somewhere, laughing. Katie!"

"Alright, what's missing?" Carlos said thoughtfully. "We have knives, forks, plates . . ." He squealed. "Jesus Christ!"

Gustavo had just walked out into the garden. Blood all over his shirt. He was wearing a ceremonial uniform, tight on his chubby body. His hands were also covered with blood. They all had a pretty good guess as to who it belonged to. But somehow, Jo didn't seem to realise.

"Hello, friends!" he greeted with a huge smile, sitting down on the garden seat next to Kendall. "There was a time when this suit fitted me. Wonderful uniform, isn't it? I wore it when I was chaplain to the British army."

"We know all too well what it is," Logan sighed disapprovingly.

"It needs a bit of a clean up. Obdul's been dressing up in it. I should give it to him for keeps."

"It's not at all suitable for this climate," Logan added.

"You're right, Logan. Just for today."

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head at them. "Alright then, teatime!"

"I'll make the tea," Kendall offered, smiling when James wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"No no, let me finish off Lughnasa," Carlos chuckled, knowing Kendall didn't want to move anymore. "You can start again tomorrow. Turn on Marconi, Camille."

"I think it's broken again," Camille shrugged.

"James fixed it," Kendall said, smiling lovingly at the man next to him. "Didn't you?"

"Then Camille got at it again!" James joked, squeezing his shoulder.

"That thing is possessed, if you ask me," Camille said, slightly annoyed.

"I wish you wouldn't use words like that, Camille," Logan sighed. He paused, smiling. "There's still great heat in that sun."

"Great harvest weather," Carlos added.

"I just love Spetember," Logan sighed, face totally softened.

"His face really alters when he's happy, doesn't it?" Kendall whispered to James.

"Cooking time," Carlos announced, though he didn't move.

"Oh, wait a while, Carlos," Logan smiled. "Enjoy the bit of heat that's left."

"I love those kites," James said, eyeing the items that lay on the ground by the seat. "Not bad for a seven-year-old!"

"I keep telling Camille she has a very talented daughter," Logan agreed.

"Well . . . I don't mean to disturb this lovely afternoon, but I have something to say." James held Kendall's hand tightly. "I'm in love with Kendall, and we're going to get married."

Jo squealed, Carlos just smiled, Logan gasped, Camille looked horrified. Gustavo just seemed confused.

"How did this happen?" Camille asked softly.

James sighed. "I'm so sorry, Camille. The truth is, I met Kendall before I met you. And I fell for him hard. And we started a relationship, I'm not afraid to admit it now. Kendall wanted to keep it a secret because he was afraid of you not accepting him as he is. But he's perfect in every way, and if you lot don't love him for who he is . . . then you can't call yourself a family."

There was silence. And then Logan smiled. "We would never dream of it."

_As I said, Jo left only a week after Lughnasa ended, and Gustavo was dead within two years. And with him and Kendall and Jo all gone, the heart seemed to go out of the house. When Kendall died, Carlos and my mother mourned him solely, but Logan was inconsolable. Often I heard him crying at night. There was always one name that plagued his dreams every night, though it didn't always rotate completely. Carlos eventually took on the tasks Jo and Kendall had done and pretended to believe that nothing had changed. My mother spent the rest of her life in the knitting factory - and hated every day of it. And after a few years doing nothing with his life, Logan got the job of tutoring the young family of Peggy Morgan and her husband. But much of the spirit and fun had gone out of their lives; and when my time came to go away, in the selfish way of young woman, I was happy to escape._

_And so, when I remember their last summer of 1936, different kinds of memories offer themselves to me. But there is one memory of that Lughnasa that comes to me most often; and what fascinates me about that memory is that it shows no fact. In that memory, atmosphere is what's real, and everything is simultaneously true and illusory. In that memory, the air is nostalgic with the music of the thirties. It drifts in from somewhere far away in a mirage of sound. A sound so alluring that the air is bewitched, even haunted by it. And what is so strange about that memory is that everybody seems to be floating on those sweet words, moving rhythmically, and responding more to the mood of the music than its beat._

_When I remember it, I think of it as dancing. Dancing with eyes half-closed, as of to open them would break the spell. Dancing as if language had surrendered to movement – as if this wordless ceremony was now the way to speak. To whisper private and sacred things, to exchange loving words and secrets. Dancing as if the heart of life was found in those assuaging notes and hushed rhythms and those silent, hypnotic movements._

_Dancing in the dark, and in silence. As if language no longer existed, because words were no longer necessary._   
  



End file.
